Not About Angels
by MakeYourBodyaCanvas
Summary: Rosemary Brandon was the best thing that had walked into Henry Tudor's life, even if the two hated one another. Doomed to marry the pompous Duke Buckingham, Rosemary would even marry the man she couldn't stand. Finding peace within their marriage and their own country is one of the many obstacles the King and Queen will face together.
1. Chapter 1

**Not About Angels:**

 _ **Rosemary Brandon and Henry Tudor grew up together. As the years passed by, childhood loyalty remained even when the two loathed one another. Now as a young woman, Rosemary is doomed to marry the arrogant and ambitious Duke of Buckingham and she would do anything to break off the betrothal; even if that meant marrying the man she couldn't stand. Finding peace within their marriage and their own country is one of the many obstacles the King and Queen will face together.**_

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 **Hello everyone!**

 **If you haven't guessed, this is my new Tudor story. This isn't one of the new ideas I have shared with you all in the past. As I was thinking about how to end the next chapter of ACL, a thought struck and I just knew I had to share with one with you.**

 **For those who are reading ACL, thank you for checking out this new story and I hope you enjoy. If you haven't read my other Tudor story A Courtier's Life, please go check it out!**

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 ***** _Elizabeth Blount was the King's mistress (1514-1519) and gave birth to his son, Henry Fitzroy, Duke of Richmond, on the 15th June 1519, but she did not get married until 1522 and so was single when she was sleeping with the King. (I had to make the date 1510 to correspond with my story. Many of you know I have OCD when it come to history)._

 ***** _The assassination of Henry VIII's uncle – This is fictional. Henry VIII did not have an uncle who was assassinated._

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 **-I own nothing and no one except for Rosemary.**

 **-Please go thank my amazing beta Hpuni101 for looking over this chapter.**

 **-Enjoy!**

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 **Chapter 1: Whitehall Palace, End of Autumn, 1514**

"You're the worse brother ever!"

"Come now, Rosie, you're just overreacting."

"Don't call me that, Charles! You know I hate that name," Rosemary said, her eyes piercing through her brother like daggers. "And I am not overreacting. If anything, I'm under acting."

Rosemary Brandon was a force to be reckoned with when made angry. She didn't think many things through whenever she was upset, much like her brother. Rosemary saw her way and only her way; anyone else's opinion didn't matter.

"Rosie," Charles sighed, ducking when his sister threw a pillow at his head. Even though Rosemary hated that nickname, Charles was the only person who was allowed to get away with calling her that.

"No, Charles."

"You don't have a choice, Rosemary," Charles said firmly. "The dowry has already been made."

Taking a deep breath, Rosemary closed her eyes to clam herself. "What and how much is my marriage portion?"

"Twenty pounds of gold and half of our father's estate." Charles cringed when his little sister's eyes popped opened. He knew she would be mad.

"Papa's estate?" She breathed, not believing what she had just heard. "You're giving him half of papa's estate – _my half of the property_? You're out of your bloody mind!"

Charles and Rosemary were only a year and two months apart. Their father had been William Brandon, Henry VII's standard bearer at Bosworth Field in 1485 and was killed by Richard III himself. Charles had just been over a year old when their father died and the late William Brandon hadn't even met his daughter. Their mother had died when Charles was ten and Rosemary was nine. The orphaned siblings were sent to the Royal court by their uncle. That was the custom, but since the Brandons were not heirs to an important title or great wealth, their case was decided more on sentiment. The children had made a claim on Henry VII's affections since their father had died in his service. That demonstration of loyalty at Bosworth meant a great deal to the first Tudor king.

As the Brandon siblings grew older, the late Tudor king had kept their family's estate in their name just for them when they came of age. The late King had split the property in half, that way both siblings had some right to their old home. That estate meant the world to both of them. It was the last place where the memories of their parents lived on. Rosemary even planned on moving out to the estate with her future children, but she doubted that would ever happen now.

"The estate is still yours," Charles said, trying to appease his sister. He certainly didn't want her to throw something heavier at his head, like the flower vase that was sitting right next to her.

Screaming on the inside, Rosemary looked like her head was going to explode.

The dowry was a wedding custom which benefited the husband. A dowry was an amount of money, good and property that the bride would bring to the marriage. It was also referred to as her marriage portion. The law gave the husband full rights over his wife. She effectively became his property.

"Rosie…"

"Out! Get out right now! Just go, I don't want to see you right now." Rosemary began pushing her brother out the door, ignoring his protest. "Leave me, Charles. You've already ruined my life, so just leave!"

She slammed the door in Charles's face, not caring for how rude and childish she was acting. She threw herself onto her bed and buried her face into the pillow. Tears of anger streamed down her face and she wiped them away as quickly as they came.

She couldn't believe her brother would do this to her.

She had been engaged before in the past to men of nobility because of Henry VII, but they had all fell through the cracks. Her first engagement was to some Spanish Duke, a relative of Catherine of Aragon since Arthur was to marry the Spanish princess. She had been just a young girl of twelve at the time. Her closest engagement that was almost a marriage was to one of the late King's privy chamber members. Rosemary had been fifteen and her fiancée had been fifty something years old. It wasn't uncommon for young girls to marry a man many times her seniors and like most girls, Rosemary didn't like the arrangement, but she realized it was her duty as a woman and to her family to go through with it. The engagement had been called off, however, because her fiancée had died of a stroke months before the ceremony.

But to be married to Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham? Charles may as well have just said he hated her.

Edward Stafford was the eldest son of Sir Henry Stafford, 2nd Duke of Buckingham and Lady Katherine Woodville. Through his father he was descended from EdwardIII's sons, John of Gaunt and Thomas of Woodstock, and his mother was a sister of Edward IV's queen consort, Elizabeth Woodville who afterwards married Henry VII's uncle, Jasper Tudor, Duke of Bedford. Therefore, the Duke was related to King Henry VIII in more than a few ways. Edward's father was attainted and executed for rebelling against King Richard III on 2nd November 1483. However, the attainder was reversed on Henry VII's accession to the throne and Buckingham was placed under the wardship of Lady Margaret Beaufort.

In 1495, Buckingham was made a Knight of the Garter and he was given many ceremonial roles at court. This continued after the accession of Henry VIII with Buckingham acting as Lord High Steward at the King's coronation in 1509 where he also carried the crown. He was made a member of the Privy Council in 1509 and also fought in the campaign against the French in 1513. Through the marriages of his children, Buckingham had wide connections within the nobility making him a potentially powerful political force. This resulted in him becoming a leader for the disaffected nobles who were unhappy with the growing influence at court of low-born men, in particular Cardinal Wolsey.

And in turn, Henry was both jealous and suspicious of Buckingham due to his wealth, lands and royal blood. And Buckingham was too prideful in his royal blood and believed that he was more rightfully endowed for the throne than Henry was.

Although Rosemary despised Henry, she truly believed that he was meant to be King of England. He had a charismatic presence and was full of enthusiasm and energy. He was affable and willing to trust his counselors, something Buckingham was not.

Out of all the men Charles could have chosen to be her husband, he had to choose Buckingham. His riches certainly didn't blind Rosemary like it would with many other women. Since she had grown up around the Royal family and in court, she knew that even though riches were good, they certainly didn't make a happy marriage. She was certain that most women would willingly change positions with her and Rosemary would gladly let them. She'd rather die an old maid before she married Buckingham.

But alas, she had no choice.

Women had very little, if any, choice in who her husband might be. Women were very much 'second class citizens'. Regardless of their social standing, women were expected to marry. Single women who weren't married were thought to be witches by their neighbors and their fate was most often a sad one to be sure.

There was a knock on Rosemary's chamber doors, breaking her train of thought.

"Rosemary?" A questioning voice called for her on the other side.

Still lying down, Rosemary rolled onto her left side. "Come in."

As the door opened and closed, Rosemary heard her visitor sigh, "Oh, sweetheart."

Elizabeth Blount or "Bessie" as she was more commonly known was Rosemary's best friend in court, minus the two Tudor Princesses. Bessie sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed the strands of hair out of Rosemary's face and then hugged her so hard she couldn't breathe. It was the best feeling in the world as of now since she had gone numb from the thought of her impending marriage.

A few minutes later, the two girls sat on the bed with their backs against the headboard, holding onto each other as they sat in the silence. Bessie didn't stare at Rosemary or ask as bunch of questions; it was why Bessie was her best friend. She could push and pull with the best of them, but she usually gave Rosemary time and neither had ever felt judged.

"What is wrong?" Bessie asked after the moment of silence became too much.

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Stuff. How is His Majesty?"

"He is amazing. I think I'm in love."

"I could have told you that." Rosemary playfully pushed Bessie's shoulder. "Tell me all about this scandalous relationship."

Bessie began her affair with the King around 1510*, as a very young girl. She accompanied Henry as the lead in a Christmas mummery that year. Bessie certainly had been the first pre-teen to be Henry VIII's mistress. Her friend Elizabeth Bryan was given a diamond necklace and a mink coat, as well as a husband – Nicholas Carewe. When Elizabeth Bryan gave birth to a son at the age of 12, she was called "the young wife". However, Bessie clearly wanted more than a diamond necklace or a husband, and made the King's attentions to her public. It did not take much skill to notice the hidden agenda. No doubt the situation was reported to the Queen, by ladies who did not fail to notice that Bessie was also plumper and blooming. The Queen was so upset that she went into premature labor. Her tiny son died after a few days, and she never became pregnant again.

For the next half hour, Rosemary forgot all about her problems as she listened to Bessie's. She told Rosemary about the King who had captured her heart more so than her husband and how happy he made her, despite the Queen's cruel behavior. Rosemary was ecstatic because someone deserved some happiness in their life.

The two moved on to the news around court. Henry's uncle, Courtenay, was murdered in Rome by French agents*. This act caused a grief-stricken and furious Henry to call his council together and put forward the idea of war on France, something which was backed by the Duke of Buckingham and Duke of Norfolk. Cardinal Wolsey agreed that there was just cause for the war and the King told him to preparations. Sir Thomas More was not too keen on the idea, however; forever the pacifist that man was.

"You're pregnant?"

Rosemary was left speechless by her good friend's declaration minutes after they had ceased all conversation.

Bessie nodded her head. "I dare not tell my husband. He is already quiet jealous and is threatening to make a scandal and put me in a nunnery."

Both girls knew that Henry would never allow that to happen. He favored Bessie over his own wife.

"Have you told the King?"

Bessie wouldn't meet Rosemary's eyes as she shook her head. "No, I don't know if I want to tell him. I didn't plan for this to happen, Rosemary. I was content with being the King's mistress, but not with carrying his child."

At the time that the King took notice to Bessie, the Queen was still recovering from the loss of yet another new baby. Bessie had _"wan the King's harte"_ (won the King's heart) and Rosemary couldn't blame Henry for taking an interest in her friend. Bessie was an extremely beautiful woman. She had long light brown hair and green-blue eyes, and was an average height for a woman of their time. Bessie had fair, beautiful skin with no flaws and often wore typical maiden clothes. Her father was promoted to 'Esquire of the Body', which meant personal attendance on the King in his bedroom.

"Well, you have to tell someone," Rosemary reasoned.

"I've told you."

"Other than me," Rosemary sighed. "It'd be best to tell Wolsey."

Bessie looked confused. "Why would I tell him? You hate that man."

That was very much true. Rosemary and Charles loathed the Cardinal with every fiber of their being. It brought a bitter taste in Rosemary's mouth to even utter his name.

"The King listens to him for some odd reason. Wolsey will speak in your favor. He dislikes the Queen more than he does you."

Even though it was treason Rosemary just spoke, it was the truth. The Queen did not trust Wolsey simply because he held too much power over the King. If Henry were to do anything he would seek Wolsey's approval before he would even act. Everyone knew that the Cardinal used his position and friendship with the King to his advantage at times, which cost many people many different things. Charles and Rosemary hated how the man practically had their old childhood friend wrapped around his fingers. Wolsey felt threatened by the Brandon siblings, however. If Henry wasn't listening or seeking Wolsey's advice, he was looking towards one of the Brandons. That did not sit well with the old man.

"You are right," Bessie sighed loudly and gave Rosemary a sideway glance. "Shall we speak of what has you so upset?"

Rosemary huffed and crossed her arms. "You already know so what's there to talk about? I'm sure the whole court knows by now."

Bessie pulled her friend close. "Of course everyone knows. Buckingham has been buzzing all this morning."

Rosemary looked up at the ceiling with annoyance written on her face. "Oh God, why me?"

Bessie laughed. "His Majesty is quiet upset about it, though. He wouldn't stop talking about it while we were alone. Dare I say he showed an inkling of caring?"

Rosemary laughed without humor. "Henry's just worried that I would tell all of his secrets to his enemy."

Henry and Rosemary had never gotten along. When Charles and Rosemary moved into court she had no problem with befriending Arthur. The late Prince was around the same age as the Brandon siblings and he was more bookish so he didn't share quiet as many interests with Charles so that meant Rosemary was still the center of her brother's attention; they would do everything together.

Then Charles began to befriend Henry.

Though they were seven years older than Henry, Charles shared his most prominent characteristics – natural athleticism, robust physical health and a devotion to all sports (wrestling, hunting, tilting and jousting, etc.). During their adolescent years, the two boys laid the foundation for a lifelong friendship.

And Rosemary hated it.

She was never a selfish girl; their mother certainly had made sure to install humility in her children, though Charles seemed to lack that characteristic. Rosemary was, however, selfish for her brother's affection. They had two older half sisters that they had never met so it had just been the two of them. After they had become orphans, Charles quickly adapted to the roll of Rosemary's protector and the young girl liked having her brother around. It gave her a sense of comfort. But when Charles started his friendship with Henry, Rosemary had a difficult time adjusting to actually having to share her brother's attention. Henry loved to rub it in Rosemary's face that there were certain things that she couldn't do with her brother that he could, and Rosemary enjoyed reminding Henry that Charles was her brother, therefore she came before anyone else in his life – even the young Prince Henry at the time.

It was no secret to the Tudor court that the King and Rosemary had an unusual relationship, it was a subject that provided the courtiers with something to constantly speculate about.

Bessie shook her head, suddenly becoming serious. "No, His Majesty knows how physical Buckingham can be, everyone knows, and he knows _you_ , Rosemary. You and your brother are very important to the King, even if the two of you butt-head's at times. He's worried for you."

Rosemary, in all honestly, was worried for herself as well. The Duke's late wife, Lady Eleanor Percy, would walk around court sometimes with a limp, or appeared to be too sore to move. All signs pointed towards rape, not to mention how skittish she was around other men. And when the Duchess would lock herself away from the world, everyone knew that there was a bruise on her face that she was waiting on to heal. The Duke had a quick temper, something fierce and uncontrollable. And Rosemary was very determined in anything she did; she was headstrong and independent at times. Her personality certainly did not balance with Buckingham's. A man like that needed to be in control all the time or would rain hell upon her.

So that meant she had two choices: Play the submissive wife, or defy him with every breath and action – which would more than likely result in a bruise or two.

With a gentle smile, Rosemary said nothing. She couldn't because she didn't know what to say. She just rested her head on Bessie's shoulder and basked in the comfort her best friend had to offer for the time being.

 **-Page Break-**

As the day had progressed, Rosemary put on a (fake) smile and accompanied Buckingham and his daughter, Anna, as they watched The King and Charles play against their two good friends Anthony Knivert and William Compton. Rosemary tried to focus on the tennis match in front of her, but she found it difficult to when she felt Buckingham's intense gaze on the side of her face. She had promised Charles that she would play this game of 'house', the game the Brandon siblings had played many years ago with the Tudor siblings.

Anna was too enticed with watching Charles run around the court to even try to conversate with Rosemary. She never understood why so many girls were drawn to her brother. Charles was a handsome man, Rosemary would give her brother that, but Charles had just recently come into land and a title of his own. He still wasn't considered by many a Duke or Lord yet; he was still simply Charles Brandon to them – King Henry's best friend. Maybe that's why women swarmed around him; maybe they were hoping something good would come out of being with the King's best friend. The women of court should have known by then that Charles wasn't a serious man when it came to taking a wife or mistress. Her brother enjoyed the hunt more so than anything else.

"Are you enjoying the match, my Lord?" Rosemary knew it was up to her to start a conversation. Neither Buckinghams showed any interest in talking.

Buckingham didn't even take his eyes off of Rosemary to spare a glance at the game. "Tennis has never been a favorite of mine. I much prefer something more physical and outdoors – like hunting and jousting."

Looking at him from the corner of her eyes, Rosemary hummed. "I can tell, My Lord."

With an impressive figure, Buckingham had the look of a fighter about him. Along with stern, dark eyes that showed no emotions.

"And you, Mistress Brandon?"

A small smile tugged at the corners of Rosemary's lips. "I have no choice but to like the games, My Lord. That doesn't mean I can't root for the other team, though."

Along with Princess Mary, Rosemary was always dragged to the games that Henry and Charles played as they were growing up. The boys always told the girls that they were their good luck charms, and like the naïve child she was, Mary always believed them. Rosemary would join them only to keep an eye on the young Princess. Mary certainly liked to roam around and get comfortable with the palace. The two girls would always bet something from their wardrobe as to which side would win. Mary was always for Henry and Charles, and Rosemary was always for the opposing team.

Anna finally drew her eyes away from the match and looked back at Rosemary. "Why would you cheer for the other team? Your brother and His Majesty are fine athletes."

Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Rosemary simply smiled. "It annoys them both that I do that and it brings me great entertainment."

Rosemary and Henry had gotten into more fights than she could count because of that. Henry hated it when anyone questioned his abilities to perform in anything. It was quiet funny to watch the King – then Prince – get all red in the face as he spewed obscene words at her. Rosemary wouldn't say anything back, much to Henry's displeasure. She had always wondered what it was with men, especially Tudor men, which made them all rile up to fight.

"Lady Brandon, pardon me for asking, but why hasn't your brother taken another wife?"

Rosemary hesitated for a few minutes.

Buckingham's dark eyes seemed to have intensified at his daughter's question.

And, in all honesty, Rosemary didn't know what to say.

But before 1509, the young Charles at the time had undergone an embarrassing marital situation which revealed his ambition and callousness. In 1505, he had become engaged to Anne Browne, a young woman of impressive lineage; her father was Anthony Browne, Governor of Calais, and her mother was Lucy Neville, niece of the 'Kingmaker.' Charles and Anne were betrothed per verba de praesenti, a binding contract under canon law. In such cases, there was no ceremony or witnesses; as one can imagine, this led to several unpleasant cases of men and (more rarely) women repudiating their betrothed if they lacked proper respect for church law.

Charles apparently did.

He and Anne slept together, as evidenced by the birth of a daughter in 1506, but he did not marry her. Instead, he married her aunt, a very wealthy widow named Margaret Neville Mortimer. The marriage was never taken seriously due to its mercenary nature and, more importantly, legal action begun by Anne's angry family. Eventually, the Mortimer marriage was annulled due to the previous contract and Charles married Anne in a well-attended public ceremony; which was greatly overdone in Rosemary's opinion. They had another daughter in 1510; Anne died just two years later.

By late 1512, Charles had recovered from his grief enough to contemplate yet another union. This was even more mercenary since his betrothed was an eight-year-old orphan. It was common practice for the Crown to assume guardianship of an orphaned minor child who had inherited property. The Crown then sold the guardianship to the highest bidder, often the child's own relatives who wanted to receive the property revenues until the child came of age and decide whom they would marry. Charles had been given the wardship of Elizabeth Grey, the heiress to Lord Lisle of Sparsholt in Berkshire. This, along with various offices, grants & pensions, was a mark of Henry's continued favor. In early 1513, Charles announced his engagement to the girl and, on 15 May 1513, the king created him Viscount Lisle, in right of his betrothed wife. Charles Brandon finally had a noble title and even more property.

That same year, the new Lord Lisle accompanied the king to France and also helped entertain the Hapsburg Emperor Maximilian and his twice-widowed, 33-year-old daughter, Margaret, Regent of the Netherlands. For Henry, the meeting was also a diplomatic necessity since, in 1508, his father had entered into a formal contract of marriage between his (Henry VII's) youngest daughter, Mary, and Maximilian's son, Charles of Castile. But over the next few years, little mention had been made of the contract. Henry used the visit to broach the subject; the end result was an agreement that Princess Mary and Charles would wed in 1514, after Charles had reached his 14th birthday.

Meanwhile, Rosemary's brother had made a fool of himself by flirting with Margaret, Regent of the Netherlands. There is little chance she truly favored Charles, and certainly none that she planned to marry him, but they flirted, Henry translating for his friend.

Once again, Charles Brandon was demonstrating his heavy-handed flair for the ladies.

In the end, he greatly offended Margaret by encouraging gossip about their meeting. In particular, it stressed her attraction to him and a possible marriage. As a Hapsburg Princess, she was not amused and Henry VIII was forced to make a public apology. But he was not angry with his friend; on 1 February 1514, he created Charles the duke of Suffolk, the title once held by the Yorkist de la Poles. He also received the majority of their confiscated estates. This elevation was remarkable; it meant that Suffolk was one of only three dukes in the kingdom. The other two were Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk (reinstated to the title after his victory at Flodden in 1513), and Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham and descendant of Edward III. Of course, many were surprised that a yeoman's son was now one of their greatest peers but Brandon's friendship with Henry explained matters. In Europe, it was said that Cardinal Wolsey and Brandon truly ruled England through influence upon Henry VIII.

Choosing her words wisely, Rosemary said, "My brother is getting older every day, he isn't looking for just a fling, Lady Buckingham, but a true wife – a woman."

Something Anna Buckingham surely was not.

Anna was only nineteen years old and although she was deemed a woman to society, she certainly was still childlike in her ways. Rosemary had, had her fair shares of flings in court when she was a young girl as well, but those days were put behind her now. She would take partners here and there whenever there was a party, but that was mostly it. It became tactless when women who were no longer spring chickens continued on with their elicit affairs.

Rosemary held no judgment towards Anna, for she was a pretty, young girl, but Anna was one of the many women of court that Charles would fuck and then soon forget their faces and names.

Knowing her brother like the back of her hand, Rosemary knew that Charles tried to fill the void of being a widower by spending all his time sleeping with the women of court. If Rosemary ever had a say in who her brother should marry then she would have picked her best friend Mary, who she missed dearly.

Mary Tudor, born in 1495, was the baby of the Tudor family and was widely considered the most beautiful princess of her time, which she was in Rosemary's eyes. Mary shared Henry's exuberance for spectacle and was the star of his court. Like him, she loved dancing, masques, and parties; they were also close emotionally. So when Henry told her that she would marry the widowed King of France, a man in his fifties with gout and a pock-marked face, she poured out her heart. Certainly she would do her duty as a Princess, she told Henry, but when the marriage was over, she wanted to choose her next spouse – and choose him for love alone. It was an extraordinary demand for any woman of that time but Henry VIII loved his sister and he agreed; partly because he loved her but also because he wanted her to leave for France peacefully and willingly; and also, perhaps more troubling, because she had confessed her secret love to him (and Henry, in turn, told Rosemary about his sister's confession about her secret love in private, surprising the youngest Brandon as well). It was none other than Henry's best friend and Rosemary's brother, Charles Brandon.

Mary had enjoyed unprecedented freedom at her brother's court, staying close to Rosemary to learn the ways of a courtier, but also basking in the attention that was entitled since she was the Princess. Just fourteen when her father died, Mary had spent the next five years virtually unchaperoned in Henry's hectic court, her brother and best friend openly encouraging her participation in every event.

In 1514, she was nineteen years old, very beautiful, and very willful. She had developed an attachment to the Brandon siblings, especially towards Charles; she had known them all her life.

Mary's attachment to Charles may have begun as a child's awe of a robust, attractive man, successful in all sports (so important at the Tudor court) and very charming. But it had changed into something more and, by 1514, most of the king's inner circle knew of her affection. There was no scandal, however. Mary believed her brother's promise and married the aged Louis XII at Greenwich Palace on 13 August 1514. The Duc de Longueville acted as the king's proxy in every respect; he even lay down on a bed with Mary and touched her body with his naked leg, thus 'consummating' the marriage.

Mary enjoyed herself at her wedding festivities and its attendant celebrations. It would have been impossible to feel otherwise. She had a splendid trousseau, marvelous jewels sent over from France, and all the honors due to the queen of France. All contemporary accounts remark on her great beauty, particularly her clear complexion and long red-gold hair, the Tudor trademark. Her husband was eager to see her, telling the English ambassador that he had many gifts for his bride and expected a kiss for each one.

Mary eventually traveled from Dover to Boulogne on 2 October, after waiting weeks for stormy weather to end. She actually left in the midst of more storms since Henry VIII had grown bored waiting for them to end. Upon her departure, she kissed her brother and reminded him of his promise about her future. Henry, eager to leave, committed her to God and her husband and left. There were fourteen ships in Mary's retinue but the weather was so terrible that only four reached port on time; the rest docked at various ports on the French coast.

Poor Mary, suffering from seasickness and constant rain, was carried ashore by one of her gentlemen, Sir Christopher Garnish. She had written to Rosemary all about her journey from Montreuil to Abbeville and contemporary chroniclers recorded her outfit; they were much impressed with her beauty and charm. She wore cloth of gold on crimson with tight sleeves in the English style and a hat of crimson silk which she wore cocked over one eye. Her husband met her at a carefully arranged 'accident' outside Abbeville and, on 9 October, they married in that city.

Mary, who was still in France, wrote to Rosemary weekly; something the two friends promised to do.

"I'm sure the Princess Mary would be eager to stand by the Duke as his wife," Buckingham said, finally voicing his opinion on the matter; almost reading Rosemary's mind.

"I'm sure she would," Rosemary said, keeping her anger at bay. She reminded herself that she had to be smart and cautious when speaking to Buckingham. "My brother is one of the handsomest men in the entire western world. But the Princess has a duty that she is now fulfilling and we courtiers have a duty to keep our noses out of Royal business, right, Lord Buckingham?"

Rosemary bit the inside of her cheeks as she suppressed the smile that dared to creep onto her face as she watched Buckingham go red in the face. Maybe she could find some entertainment in the arrangement after all.

As the watcher called for "love", signaling Henry's and Charles's victory, Rosemary watched as Henry and Charles looked over at the three of them sitting in the stands. Their eyes lingered on Anna, who was watching them just as intently. Charles must have felt the holes his sister was burning into his face because he looked up and met Rosemary's glare. Her brother didn't even look the least bit bashful for being caught and laughed loudly when Henry whispered something in his ear.

 _Boys will be boys_ , Rosemary thought with a roll of her eyes.

"But maybe my brother has his eyes set on another for the time being," Rosemary said coyly, the smirk in her voice evident.

 **-Page Break-**

"How could you agree to this?!"

Henry, who was taken by surprised by Rosemary's attack and sudden outburst, took a step backwards. Both he and Charles were well accustomed to Rosemary throwing things when she was upset.

"Out of all the men in court – in the world, you agree to me marrying Buckingham? _Buckingham out of all people!_ What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Have you forgotten that he is your enemy?! No doubt he's using me to get to you. Please tell me you're not that blind."

Making sure she was finish, Henry said, "Hello to you, too, Rosemary. How is your day?"

Eyes flashing with annoyance, Rosemary stalked towards Henry and pointed her finger at his chest. "Don't play games with me, Harry; I'm in no mood for them."

"Really? You certainly had me fooled."

Despite the growing anger in her eyes, Henry continued to joke with Rosemary, knowing he was getting under her skin. Some said that the King and Rosemary absolutely hated each other and some said that they were like siblings. A silent majority of people said that they were actually in love and that they didn't even know it yet because they covered it up with their banter.

Whatever the truth was, the people doubted that they would ever truly know because one thing was for sure: The King and Rosemary enjoyed making the other angry. It was like a game to them with no end in sight. Of course there were lines that neither would dare think about crossing, but the two always walked away laughing, no matter how serious their fighting may appeared to have been.

"Is my life nothing but a joke to you?"

Henry tried, he really did, but when Rosemary looked up at him with those big blue eyes filled with anger and slight pain, he cracked. He hated seeing Rosemary hurt, everyone knew that. Those who hurt Rosemary not only suffered the wrath of Charles, but that of the King's as well.

Sighing, Henry shook his head in defeat. "The church has agreed to the arrangement as well."

"Buy why did _you_ agree to it? I wouldn't have to go through with this if you had just said no."

Countless times before in the past men had asked for Rosemary's hand in marriage. They were all noble men and at that time Charles was not a Duke, so Rosemary knew that they were hoping to win the favor of the King by marrying one of his good friends; although Charles and many others said that it was her beauty alone that had enraptured the men. And countless times before Henry had turned all of them away. Like his little sister Mary, Henry wanted a suitable husband for Rosemary. One he knew that he could depend on and take care of her. So Rosemary was truly confused as to why Henry thought Buckingham was a suitable husband.

Making sure that the doors to the privy chamber were sealed shut, Henry guided Rosemary into a seat and sat down next to her. He took her hands in his and made her look him in the eyes so she knew he wasn't lying.

"There have been rumors that Buckingham has been speaking of dethroning me and taking the crown for his own."

"How?" Rosemary knew it was a stupid question, she wanted to kick her own self for asking such a thing, but she had to know that she wasn't the only one thinking of the answer. She had to hear Henry say it.

"By assassinating me," Henry said, his grip tightening on Rosemary's hands slightly.

Rosemary gasped and her eyes were wide. She had heard the people say that Buckingham was planning something – something along the very lines of treason. She had assumed that Buckingham had something up his sleeves, but she hadn't expected that it was to be something so extreme. She hadn't expected Buckingham to be the stupid to confine in other people about his thought as well.

"But that's treason," Rosemary said. "High treason, Harry. He needs to be arrested."

"With what evidence? There's nothing but words that can be held against him, Rosemary, and that's not very convincing."

Rosemary shot up out of her seat; her eyes frantic and filled with nothing but worry. "You're the King! The council will do anything you ask, you know that. Don't try to be the noble man here, Harry; don't be stupid. This man is talking about taking your life. This is serious."

"You don't think I know that?" Henry watched from his seat as Rosemary paced back and forth, possibly attempting to put a hole in the floor. "I have to be smart about this. My wife and daughter's life are also in danger because of Buckingham. I won't have them in harm's way just because I was impatient."

Rosemary bit her tongue before she said out of line about the Queen.

In his own way, Henry loved Catherine; Rosemary knew that, but she doubted that Henry would wallow in despair over Catherine's death. He would be devastated, for she was the mother of his beloved daughter, but he would get over it soon enough. Mary was another story altogether. She was the pearl of Henry's world, his little girl, and no matter how much Henry complained about not having a male heir; Rosemary knew that Henry absolutely adored Mary. His whole face would light up whenever she would visit him in court and his entire demeanor would change from being Henry VIII, King of England to just plain ole' Henry Tudor, proud father of an adorable little girl. Everyone knew that Henry loved Mary with all his heart and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her just because of him.

"So you're going to sacrifice me instead?" Tears gathered in Rosemary's eyes, threatening to fall, but she wouldn't allow them to. "Am I not your family, too?"

Once again Henry cracked.

He didn't know how Rosemary did that.

He stood up from his seat and gathered Rosemary into his arms. It was rare for the two to show affection so freely, but it would happen every once in a blue moon. There were times growing up when Henry would comfort Rosemary, or where the roles were reversed. Neither would admit it, but they enjoyed the comfort and company the other person brought. They would certainly deny it, though.

Cupping her face in his hands gingerly, Henry wiped the tears that had escaped away. He hated seeing the tears there. They made her clear, blue eyes look like broken glass.

"You are my family, Rosemary, even if we do bicker like school children. You have been a part of my life for so long that I cannot think of a life without you; it's impossible. I would never give you off to a man who I could not protect you from. Buckingham may be richer than I am and may be able to command his own army, but for as long as I am King I will protect you from him. If he even dares to think about raising a hand with intent to harm you then I _will_ have his head for it. That I swear."

 _I will not cry, I will not cry_ , Rosemary chanted repeatedly in her head. _I'll be damned if Henry sees me ball my eyes out like I'm some newborn babe._

"Why can't you always be like this?" Rosemary sniffled as she laughed. She knew Henry would hold this over her head, but she didn't care in that moment. "I like this you very much."

Wiping the few tears that did escape, Henry leaned down to kiss Rosemary's forehead. He pulled her into a tight hug once more to let her know that he was there for her.

"Lady Brandon, if you tell anyone that I was actually nice to you then you'll force me to tell everyone that you cried in my arms like a babe," Henry teased, smirking when Rosemary pulled back to look at him with a menacing, but not quiet intimidating look.

"Henry Tudor, you wouldn't dare!"

 **-Page Break-**

After the jousting match, where Rosemary had unwillingly given Buckingham her favor, the court had moved itself into its usual jovial dinner. Rosemary had lost Charles in the crowd and had been swept up by Buckingham, who she had been trying to avoid.

She had been trying her hardest to be nice and sweet, but it was just so damn hard to do. Especially when all her fiancé did was talk ill about the King.

Rosemary had just spent the day with Buckingham and she was already sick of him.

"He has no right to any of this," Buckingham said, his eyes trained on the people below them. "His father seized the crown on the battlefield. He has no real claim to it, only through a bastard on his mother's side."

The Duke of Norfolk had accompanied the two for the night, as to why, Rosemary didn't know. When the Duke gave her a quick sideways glance she shrugged her shoulders gingerly and took a sip of her ale.

She wasn't the other man here.

If Rosemary could, she would have dismissed herself the moment Buckingham had caught her in the crowd.

"Your Grace's family is more intended," Norfolk said, although it didn't sound like he meant it. He was only trying to appease the scorned, slightly drunk Buckingham.

"I'm a direct descendent of Edward III," Buckingham exclaimed, startling Rosemary slightly. "This is my crown! This is my court! Not his crown or his court."

Rosemary and Norfolk shared a troubled look. People were already spreading rumors that Buckingham was talking treason, but of course no one had the balls to stand up and testify against the Duke.

That was Buckingham's greatest downfall, though.

He was too cocky for his own good. He may have been richer than the King, had his own army, but he always forgot one simple fact (which was shocking since he talked about it all the time): He was not the King. The late King Henry VII had worked hard to get all his alliances and treaties, and Henry was determined to keep and improve his father's success. There were many people who would either come to Henry's aid or give him some of their men to go against the Duke. Buckingham always seemed to have forgotten that outside of England, there were wealthier men.

"That's treason, my Grace."

Norfolk looked up at Rosemary with surprise. He hadn't anticipated for her to say what they both had been thinking, but then again, she was a Brandon. Like her brother, Rosemary was witty, coy and got straight to the point.

No one knew if that trait was a blessing or a curse yet.

Rosemary didn't know what had possessed her to open her mouth and speak her mind, but it was too late to take it back now. She blamed it on Henry, though. In Rosemary's mind no one, and she meant no one, could speak poorly of Henry expect for her. He was her Harry, no matter what. It was quiet justifiable in her opinion.

Buckingham's eyebrows pulled down; his eyes wide open with a glare full of outrage. His lips were tightly closed with the red margins of his lips becoming narrower and his lips became thinner. His dark brown eyes turned into nothing but blackness and Rosemary knew she had messed up.

She had spoken out of turn in the presence of not only her fiancé, but in front of another Duke. And even if she didn't like Norfolk all too much, she knew it didn't matter to her fiancé. She knew that Buckingham didn't truly here her words. All he heard was the woman who would soon be his wife speak out of turn, disobediently.

Buckingham stepped towards her and she took a step back, almost bumping into Norfolk. She gulped when Buckingham's large frame practically engulfed her tiny one.

His arm shot out, the one not holding his drink, and he gripped tightly on her forearm. She whimpered when she felt his fingers indent her skin painfully, knowing that there was going to be a bruise there in the morning. He dragged her closer until their noses were touching.

To anyone from afar it would appear like they were a couple stealing a few kisses from one another, but no one was able to see the tears that had begun to gather in Rosemary's eyes from the intense pain her arm was in.

"It's. The. Truth," Buckingham spat, talking slowly as if thought Rosemary was a small child incapable of understanding what he said. "And one day I'll make it come true. Do you understand me, woman?"

Rosemary nodded her head frantically, still trying to get her arm out of Buckingham's grasp. She sobbed lightly when it felt like her bones were bending under the pressure he was applying. She quickly lowered her eyes in a submissive fashion not only to please Buckingham, but to ignore the sinister look in his eyes. It made her stomach churn.

Buckingham let go of Rosemary as if though she disgusted him, which she probably did. Norfolk caught her as she tripped over her feet as she tried to get her bearings. Her drink had fallen to the ground, but she wasn't worried about that. Her now free hand quickly went up to the area Buckingham had grabbed her at and tried to the sooth the pain away. She bit back a whimper when she lightly applied pressure.

"Are you alright, Lady Brandon?"

Rosemary had completely forgotten about the Duke of Norfolk as she kept her eyes trained on her fiancé.

They both watched Buckingham walk through the crowd as if though he was the King. He practically stopped in front of people just so they would kiss his ring and show him the respect he thought he deserved. He made his way to the exit, which was also the entrance, most likely to check on his daughter. Anna had disappeared for the night, which was quiet odd. No doubt Buckingham was cornered for his daughter.

Rosemary wondered if she could ever be happy being married to Buckingham. She worried that if she couldn't find some happiness in the marriage then she would go mad, and that made her paranoid and a bit suicidal in her mind as well.

It was a cycle she realized.

A cycle of insecurities, unconfident, fear and second thoughts.

And it would – if it hadn't already started – destroy her.

 **-Page Break-**

"You did what?"

Charles chuckled lightheartedly and scratched the back of his head. "She gave me her consent."

"And that makes it better _how_?"

"I didn't rape her."

"I doubt that matters to Buckingham."

Charles watched as his little sister's fingers twitched; a sign that she was looking for something to throw at his head and he knew it would be something heavy.

Moving to pour himself a drink, Charles cockily said, "I doubt Harry would listen to Buckingham."

Rosemary threw her arms in the air in a dramatic fashion and rolled her eyes. "Oh, yes; let's have Harry take care of all the fathers and husbands who wish to have you banished, of worse – dead. Because not only is he the King, but our best friend, too."

God, she wanted to slap that smug look of his face.

Charles was the complete courtier – athletic, fun-loving, fashion-conscious, arrogant and unprincipled. Despite the generous gifts lavished on him by the King, keeping up his position at court meant that he was constantly broke. He also possessed an animal magnetism women found irresistible. His matrimonial life (whether it was his marriage or not) was a tangle of dishonorable commitments and desertions besides which even Henry's paled into insignificance. The King was so attracted by this macho, ebullient man that he was prepared to overlook on of Charles's failings – a state of affairs that encouraged Charles to push his luck to the limits.

And Rosemary certainly felt like wringing both their necks because of that.

It was a game to the two of them. Rosemary realized that years ago. Charles and Henry would always dare or bet the other to sleep with a woman and, of course, the other person would go through with the challenge. Rosemary remembered many heartbroken, embarrassed women.

And there was no doubt in her mind that Anna Buckingham was just another challenge.

A challenge Charles clearly had won.

"You slept with Buckingham's daughter, Charles." Rosemary scoffed, "My soon to be _step daughter_. Are you out of your bloody mind?"

"To be fair, she wasn't a virgin so I didn't take her honor. Someone else already did that."

 _I'm surrounded by fucking children_ , Rosemary thought. She knew Charles wasn't going to take this seriously. To him, Anna was just another fuck that he would grow board of within a week or two. It was always like that and Rosemary would usually turn a blind eye, but she couldn't this time.

This was concerning her fucking future step daughter for God's sake! She certainly wasn't going to become an aunt/grandmother – ever.

Shaking her head, Rosemary made herself comfortable on her brother's bed. "You just want to make my life more complicated than it already is."

Charles just chuckled and lay down next to her. He pulled his sister close, burying his nose in her hair. "It certainly has become a hobby of mine."

Playfully, Rosemary slapped Charles upside his head, laughing. She could never stay mad at her brother for too long, it was impossible. The two had always been extremely close, especially as children. There had been countless nights when one Brandon sibling would sneak off in the middle of the night and sleep with the other one. It was a habit they hadn't fully broken; only laying next to the other sibling unless there was something wrong.

Plenty of the courtiers knew of this odd behavior, but none dared to vocalize their opinion on it. Charles and Rosemary's relationship was something none even attempted to joke about. Everyone knew how close the siblings were and respected them because of their bond. They honestly wouldn't be complete without the other. It was like yin and yang.

When Charles tightened his grip on his sister and pulled her closer, he heard her hiss. It was a light sound, he knew she was trying to cover it up, but he had heard it nonetheless. It was then that Charles realized that Rosemary was favoring her left hand whenever she was doing something, which was odd considering the fact that Rosemary was right handed.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Try as she may, Rosemary wasn't all too good with lying to her brother. "It's nothing, just a small bruise. I don't even know how I got it."

To Charles, Rosemary was an open book, but an onion at the very same time.

Whenever he would turn to a new chapter in his sister's life, there were always more layers to get through.

Without any warning, Charles pushed the sleeve of Rosemary's nightgown up, revealing a nasty looking bruise. The bruise was etched in multitude of hues, colors that normally should not be on someone's skin. There were garish purple splotches, roughly the size of a hand, while some areas of the bruise were more grayish, but still looked just as bad.

And it practically covered her whole upper arm.

It was horrible.

And it wasn't just a bruise. There were scars, too. Lines across her body, like someone or something had dug its nails into her, tearing her flesh, making small half moons. Someone had torn their way into her skin, the gashes told the whole story. It was horrible; Charles could hardly bear to look at his little sister.

"Who did this?" He asked calmly, barely concealing the anger.

Rosemary didn't know what to say. A part of her wanted to scream that it was Buckingham, but another part of her – which was clearly winning – told her to keep her mouth shut. She knew that if she told Charles who had done that to her then he would fly off the handle. Her brother was never a logical thinker when it came to protecting his sister.

Charles usually did relatively well with controlling his rage. Many saw her brother always smiling and laughing, just having a good time, but Rosemary was one of the very few people who got to witness Charles losing his temper. It was a cluster mess of many different emotions fueling his rage, making him stronger in strength, too. When that happened, Charles senses of empathy and acknowledgement for the law went out the window, and he was just set on a pathway of destruction.

For it was Charles's habit of throwing things in a fit of anger that had rubbed off on Rosemary.

No one liked to see either of the Brandon siblings upset because everyone knew that the other sibling would have heads rolling until they found the one responsible for hurting their sibling.

Charles growled, "Who did this, Rosemary?" He was growing impatient with his sister, and although he had a good idea on who it was, he wanted to hear it from Rosemary herself.

Finally, Rosemary looked everywhere besides at Charles and mumbled, "Buckingham."

Cursing the Duke's name with every word he knew, Charles softly ran a finger of his sister's bruised skin. Buckingham was going to pay for this.

"That son of a whore," Charles said, echoing Buckingham's exact words that were directed towards himself just a few hours ago. "I should have his head for this."

Rosemary shook her head. "No, Charles, no. It's just a bruise, it will heal soon. Just forget about it. No one will even see it."

Rosemary didn't need nor want her brother to start a war over her. And she certainly didn't need Charles going to Henry about this. Henry meant what he said about protecting Rosemary and the King would surely have Buckingham's life for this small matter. Buckingham, like Henry, had many supporters and she didn't want England to submerge into a civil war over a bruise on her arm.

Seeing the silent plead in his sister's eyes, Charles sighed loudly. "Fine, I'll forget about it this time and only this time. If he ever places a hand on you again, you must tell me, Rosemary."

Rosemary nodded her head. She knew she Charles was serious. "I will, brother."

Buckingham was going to rue the day he ever thought he could harm Rosemary Brandon; that was for sure.

Softly rolling her sleeve back down, Charles gingerly hugged his little sister to his chest, afraid that if he held her any tighter she would shatter like glass.

As the two drifted off to sleep, Charles whispered, "I should have said that I did take his whore of a daughter's honor."

The last thing either of them heard was Rosemary's fits of laughter.

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 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review! It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time! xoxo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, everyone! How are you guys?**

 **I've finally finished the second chapter. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to upload, but my muse for** _The Tudors_ **had ran away to the magical world of** _Harry Potter_ **. If any of you are Potterheads like I am, go check out my two new stories — Jinx It & Edge of Seventeen — and leave a review to let me know what you think.**

 **Anyways…. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Chapter 3 is currently in the making as you read this so I plan to have it up soon, but I make no promises.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers can be found below._

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 **Steelegirl19:** I hope you like this chapter, too. I'm trying to go about all the different angles and relationships Henry had, and I thought that a female Brandon would be a good way to start.

 **HPuni101:** Again, thank you so much. I couldn't do this without you.

 **Nic:** Thank you, and Henry won't be finding out about Buckingham's behavior until later chapters.

 **HermioneandMarcus:** Thank you!

 **CCL:** I hope you continue to enjoy.

 **BeyondB21:** 5 out of 5? Thank you so much!

 **Musicluver246:** Thank you.

 **TwilightEclps:** I'm sorry I've made you wait for so long.

 **Guest (who I think has reviewed multiple times):** Rosemary will marry Buckingham, and if you haven't read my other Tudor story then you wouldn't know that I have OCD when it comes to history. Buckingham didn't die until 1521, and as of right now we are in 1514 so it's going to be awhile until I can kill him off. Josephine is a pretty name, though! But I haven't truly decided who I want to play Rosemary. Honestly, it's between Katie McGrath from when she played in _Merlin_ because she just had that fiery spirit to her even though she turned evil, and she was truly meant to be a Queen, or Jessica De Gouw because she played in NBC's _Dracula_ and her character Mina was obviously the love interest of Dracula who was played by our very own Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Although, I'm leaning more towards Katie McGrath.

 **Emmettluver2010:** I'll try to update more often. My muse has come back to me.

 **Saddlebrat:** Thank you!

 **Anne:** Your review made me laugh so hard. I've never heard someone say that before. I must admit that Buckingham was more manly than Henry, which always did bother me. In actual history, Henry was tall, well built, and had an athletic body. I appreciated Eric Bana's portrayal of Henry VIII in _The Other Boleyn Girl_ even though he had dark hair instead of red. And I happened to watch the tv series of Robin Hood here and there, but I always thought he did an excellent job.

 **Guest (who I think is the same Guest from before):** I plan on finishing both my Tudor stories, and I will never abandon any of the stories that I put on this site. It may take me a while to finish them, but they will one day be completed.

 **RHatch89:** Thank you!

 **Mrs. Morgan 35:** I hope you like this chapter.

 **Lady Syndra:** Thank you for your kind words. Hopefully my updates will be a little more frequent now.

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 **Chapter 2: 7th–24th June, 1514; The Field of the Cloth of Gold**

"You know that was wrong of you to do, yes?"

"I know, Aunt Rosemary."

"Then why did you do it?"

"Because he wiped my kiss away!" The young Princess Mary stomped her foot and crossed her arms. "Who does he think he is? He was very lucky that I wanted to kiss him."

Rosemary stifled her bubbling laughter. Mary may have favored her mother look wise, but her attitude was all Henry. Her niece was a prim and proper princess with a beautiful face, but hot Tudor blood ran through her veins which made her temperamental. Rosemary thought it was sweet that Mary looked up to her father, but she doubted that Henry was the best person to idolize.

"I believe he thinks he is the Dauphin of France." Leaning down to lift Mary into her arms, Rosemary said, "It wasn't nice to push him, though."

"I'm sorry, Aunt Rosemary." With the power of her rosy cheeks and big brown eyes, Mary could have anyone wrapped around her fingers.

Kissing her niece's cheek, Rosemary smiled. "I think you should apologize to your mother."

The second Mary had pushed the Dauphin down, Rosemary's eyes sought out for the Queen. Catherine of Aragon disliked the French and she was strongly against the betrothal between Mary and the Dauphin. The Queen thought that Mary should have been promised to someone of Spanish blood. Like her nephew, King Charles V of Spain, the Holy Roman Emperor, who was more than a decade older than Mary. The age gap didn't bother Rosemary so much, although Mary was far too young, it was the fact that it would be a cousin marriage. That was perverse, that was incest, and it showed how deeply the Queen disliked the French. But the look of embarrassment that filled the Queen's face was enough to make Rosemary feel for her.

"But papa thought it was funny," Mary whined. She didn't want to apologize to anyone.

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Your father finds anything insulting towards the French to be comical."

That much was true. Rosemary hadn't missed the prideful, amused smirk Henry sent his daughter's way. Since the Dauphin was Francis's child, it made the whole situation all the more entertaining to Henry.

Francis and Henry were close in age, with Henry being three years older than his French cousin. Both Kings had been hailed as great Renaissance Princes and this meeting was also another chance for both of them to display the grandeur and wealth of their countries.

And display they would.

The purpose of the meeting was to form a solid an unbreakable friendship. To put into motion, the treaty that would forbid wars among Christian nations – England and France included – but there was much more to it than that. Rosemary knew for a fact that the political part of the meeting would get lost in all the magnificence and glamour of the event. Rosemary had foreshadowed such an outcome when Henry said he was just "Simply Henry".

"Papa said you always pushed him when he kissed you."

Rosemary laughed softly, remembering those moments from her childhood. "We were children then and we never acted like that in front of other Kings."

That may have been a lie, but Rosemary had never pushed Henry away when they were in the presence of guests. What commoner girl would deny the young Duke of York? At that time, no one; mainly because Henry was a handsome child. Growing up together gave Rosemary an entirely different perspective of him, though. To the young Rosemary, Henry was nothing more than her brother's annoying best friend. Henry, although he loved to mock her, only did so because he fancied her. The only females who were a constant in the young Henry's life were his mother, grandmother, little sister Mary and Rosemary. At the time, Mary was an infant so she held no interest and that left only Rosemary. Charles, just to annoy his sister and knowing about his friend's crush, would always dare Henry to kiss Rosemary. Henry knew he'd get pushed away every time, but he never backed down from a dare and took every opportunity to kiss his beloved.

"Did you really kiss papa, Aunt Rosemary?" Mary lifted her head from her aunt's shoulder and looked at Rosemary with curiosity.

"Your father did most of the kissing," Rosemary admitted.

Mary gasped, "Mother wasn't angry with papa? She's always mad when he visits his lady friends."

Visiting his lady friends. Rosemary snorted at the thought. It was also amusing to see how serious the young Princess was.

Taking her thumb to smooth out Mary's furrowed eyebrows; Rosemary kissed the top of her niece's hair. "Your parents weren't married yet, sweetheart."

"Oh, alright!" Mary smiled again, her aunt's answer pleasing enough. "But papa said you never pushed King Francis away."

Rosemary choked on her own saliva. She certainly hadn't anticipated for those words to come out of Mary's mouth, nor had she suspected Henry to share memories like those with his daughter.

"He did?" Rosemary feigned innocence, humoring her niece.

Mary nodded her head and hummed. "That's why papa doesn't like him – well, one of the reasons."

Rosemary felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She recalled a few times during her childhood when Henry and Francis would fight, and most of their fights were over her.

"Why did you kiss King Francis?" Mary's thirst for knowledge was always adorable when it wasn't directed towards Rosemary's personal life.

"Well, I thought he was handsome I suppose," Rosemary said.

"He's not as handsome as papa," Mary said in a matter-of-fact tone. The young Princess thought her father was godsend.

"Of course not, darling," Rosemary said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "Your father is the handsomest man in all of Europe."

In Rosemary's opinion, Francis was the better looking out of the two Kings. His dark hair, eyes and complexion was more attractive than England's view on beautiful/handsome. Of course not all French men were attractive and not all English men were unattractive. It was just the luck of the genetic draw.

"Who was the better kisser? Papa or King Francis?"

Shockingly enough, Henry had been the better kisser, but Rosemary knew that Henry had plenty of experience.

Rosemary didn't want to go down memory lane of Henry's mistresses and one-night stands, so she decided to focus on the matter at hand.

"Mary, where is this coming from?" Never once had Mary asked about anything intimate, minus the age old question of "where do babies come from?"

Shyly looking down, a small blush made its way to Mary's cheeks. "The servant girls are always talking about boys."

"Ah, I see," Rosemary said. She remembered being young and dumb with innocent eyes in court. "They shouldn't be talking about such things around you, though."

Lord knows that the King and Queen would have all the girls' heads if they ever found out.

"What's so special about kissing anyway?"

For Rosemary, she could tell if a relationship was going to work after the first kiss. She could still remember how her lips tingled with excitement when Henry stole her first kiss. She even remembered the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. But all too soon, the kisses turned into sex and a life full of court duties. Rosemary no longer kissed a man because she liked him; she kissed him to relieve herself of any sort of tension.

"A great kiss can make the world dissolve," Rosemary explained. "It can make you dizzy with desire."

Mockingly, Mary placed her small hands on Rosemary's cheeks and pecked her on the lips quickly. "Do you desire more, Aunt Rosemary?" She giggled as she was put back down on the ground.

Pretending to think for a moment, Rosemary said, "I do believe you awoke the kissing monster."

"The kissing monster?" Mary looked up at her aunt with a sceptical expression. "What's that?"

Gasping loudly to entertain her niece, Rosemary placed a hand over her heart and kneeled down until she was eye level with Mary and whispered, "You never heard of the kissing monster?! It's everywhere! It could be under your bed, or hiding in someone's hat. If it finds you, you will be showered with kisses and hugs!"

Mary let out a loud round of giggles when Rosemary pulled her closer to tickle her sides and shower her face with kisses.

"No," Mary wailed as she wiggled out her aunt's arms. She began to run away. "Stay away kissing monster!"

Chasing after her niece, Rosemary laughed, "I'm sorry, Princess, but I won't go away until you give me all your hugs and kisses!"

Running as fast as her little legs would carry her, Mary spent the rest of the day laughing and playing with her aunt.

 **~Page Break~**

"The English Mare?" Rosemary crinkled her nose up in disgust. "That's a wonderful pet name. Her parents must be so proud."

Charles laughed and gave his sister a pointed look. "We both know that Francis likes the English women."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "I kissed him once."

"And slept with him once, too."

"Charles!"

"So the rumors are true," William Compton said. He looked a bit surprised.

Anthony Knivert chuckled. "Come now, William, we both knew that our Rosemary wasn't the purest flower in the garden."

All three of the men laughed loudly, attracting more attention to their group of four than Rosemary liked. She rolled her eyes at them, though, but didn't say anything. Charles never had a filter when he was sober, so he was just a social butterfly telling all when he was drunk. He'd come grovelling for Rosemary's forgiveness in the morning, though. Maybe she'd make him sweat for just a little bit before she assured him that she wasn't angry with him.

Looking across the room, Rosemary noticed how Henry's eyes lingered on Mary Boleyn — the English Mare of the French court. "He's already slept with her, hasn't he?"

Charles drowned his third cup before he said, "You know Henry all too well. She showed him the "French graces" she has learned while at court."

"Surely the French aren't that different when it comes to sex." When Charles gave her a lascivious stare, Rosemary blanched. "On second thought, I don't want to know."

"Did you know they can tie a knot in a cherry stem with just their tongues?" Anthony looked too awfully excited with that piece of information. "Imagine what they could do to your—"

They all groaned in disgust before he could finish the sentence.

"No one needs to hear about what you want done to your…. little friend," William said.

"Little?" Rosemary nearly snorted her drink out through her nose at how offended Anthony looked. "There's nothing little about me, William."

"Except for your brain," Charles piped up.

Rosemary stared at her brother. "Like you're one to talk."

The three men laughed jovially again and Charles pulled his sister in close. He whispered in her ear, "Have you seen your future husband?"

And just like that, all the happiness in Rosemary's body left. She stopped smiling and laughing, looking almost like a shell of herself.

"I saw him running off with some French whore," she said. Any other woman would have been mortified to see her fiancé chase after another woman, but Rosemary couldn't have been more than relieved. The further away Buckingham and his thoughts were of her, the better she could live her life.

Charles nodded his head, thinking the same thing. Before he could say anything else, a wrestling match between an English and French man started. Everyone quickly gathered around to watch. Sitting next to her brother, Rosemary saw Buckingham sitting next to Norfolk.

Focusing more on the match, Rosemary cheered along like everyone else. It was clear that the Frenchman was winning, but the Englishman didn't give up. As she continued on to cheer, she felt eyes burning a hole in the side of her face. Looking in the direction the sensation was coming from, both Henry and Francis were staring at her.

Then Henry suddenly stood up.

"Do you want to prove it?" He asked Francis, obviously annoyed with whatever was said to him.

Francis looked mildly confused. "What are you suggesting?"

"I am challenging you to a wrestling match, brother."

Francis's guard step forward, but the French King stopped him. " _Démissionner_ ," he told the guard.

Henry scoffed and waved Francis off. "You're a coward."

" _Vous osez_?" Francis stood up, too. "The French honor is at stake. I accept your challenge. _Et je vais gagner_. Let's do it now."

Henry smirked. "GROOM!"

Both kings began to undress until they were in nothing but their trousers.

The whole room was buzzing. Charles and Rosemary shared a look and they both agreed: Henry was an idiot. But that didn't stop Charles from looking highly eager to witness the match.

"Majesty's, gentlemen," the referee began. "The rules are as followed: The first man to throw his opponent to the floor shall be declared the winner. Are you content with these rules?" Both kings agreed, neither taking their eyes off of each other. "Then fight on."

As soon as the referee finished speaking, the kings immediately lunged. The whole room was louder than ever, cheering for their king.

"Come on, Henry!" Charles shouted.

"What bet will you lay?" Anthony asked William.

"Two kings, two queens and a fool," William said.

"Who's the fool?"

"Henry," Rosemary said.

Both men laughed, and William said, "I don't know yet, but it's a full house." William then got to his feet and yelled, "Come on, Your Majesty!"

Anthony and Charles got to their feet as well as Rosemary remained seated. She acted like she didn't care about the outcome, but she secretly wanted Henry to win. Francis, although handsome, always did like to ruffle Henry's feathers. He had ever since they were children.

"Henry's going to win," Charles said like a fact.

Sir Thomas More, who had abandoned his seat to get a better angle of the match, disagreed. "Whatever happens he is not going to win."

His words did nothing to sway Charles's opinion, though. He just continued to cheer for his friend.

Grab after grab, break after break, Henry and Francis were still going at it. Both were red in the face and slick with sweat. Bets were going around and almost everyone were on their feet. Unknowingly, Rosemary was standing, too, cheering on her king.

Henry had Francis bent at the waist, the French King's shoulder lodged into Henry's stomach. Before Henry could even attempt to lift Francis over his shoulder, the latter shoved forward, knocking Henry off his feet and onto the floor.

The French roared from their victory as Henry was being restrained by his friends, shouting over the victorious cheers. "I want a rematch! I want a rematch! Are you afraid to go against me again?!"

"Are you calling me afraid?" Francis stepped forward and sneered. "And what do I have to be afraid of?"

"Of me!" Henry snarled.

Francis looked just as enraged. "Let's have it then!"

Sir Thomas More intervened, however, and pulled Henry to the side before Rosemary could reach him.

She rushed over to his side and heard him say, "I will not sign! Tell Francis I will not sign the treaty!"

"Henry…." Rosemary began, touching his arm lightly, but Henry snatched his arm away like she had burned him.

He stared Rosemary dead in the eyes. "I will not sign it."

Tired of Henry's temper and incompetence, Sir Thomas More grabbed Henry's face, making the king look at nothing but him, ensuring that Henry heard every word he had to say. "All right! If you want the world to know that the King of England is easily changeable, shallow, intemperate, incapable of keeping his word, then of course I will go and tell them. After all, I am merely Your Majesty's humble servant."

Like a cloud had been lifted, Henry suddenly looked like he had just woken from a dream. He stared back at Sir Thomas More like he didn't know the man who had so openly berated him in front of everyone. Shock emitted through Henry's eyes, clearly not use to people talking to him like that. The last person who had ever talked to Henry in that manner had been his late paternal grandmother.

Reaching out, Rosemary's tried again. "Henry…."

But again, he moved away from her touch like she was some sort of leopard and stalked out of the tent.

Looking over her shoulder, Rosemary caught Francis's eyes and the French King stared back at her with enraged eyes that were clouded with lust.

 **~Page Break~**

Three weeks later, Rosemary found herself sitting in the church among her fellow Englishmen and the French, as Francis and Henry signed the Treaty of London which would solidify bonds between the two countries.

Applauses were made once Henry signed, and Rosemary along with every other Englishman, let out the breath that they had been holding. Rosemary was actually surprised that Henry signed the treaty. Once he had his mind set on something, he'd follow it though until the very end. It took some persuasion and a lot of spare time to throw Mary Boleyn his way, but they had actually got Henry to agree to sign the treaty. Now, they just had to worry about him upholding it.

Unfortunately for Rosemary, Buckingham sat right next to her with Norfolk on his other side. He didn't acknowledge her or Charles presence, but he sat so close that Rosemary could feel the heat rising from his body. He sat slouched, obviously not interested in the signing, but he clapped anyways.

Once the signing was over, and the kings had left, everyone began to file out of the church. Rosemary stuck close to her brother's side and Charles wrapped a protective arm around her waist, keeping her close as possible. She didn't want Buckingham grabbing her like he had done last time.

"My Lord Suffolk."

The siblings turned around and Rosemary stiffened at how close Buckingham was. He took another step until he stood directly in front of Rosemary, but he stared at Charles. It was clear that her fiancé was trying to intimidate her with his large size and stature, and Rosemary hated to admit that it was working.

"Lord Buckingham," Charles said a little too politely. It didn't sound like him at all. "What can I do for you?"

"I have yet to receive my full dowry."

"The papers for half of my father's land and estate have not been given to you yet?"

"I was talking about the money," Buckingham said with a sneer. "How can I marry the woman with only half of her dowry?"

Charles took a dangerous step forward. Rosemary noticed that her brother and Buckingham were of the same height, both standing nose to nose.

"My _sister Rosemary_ is not some common woman. She is far too important to just give away with a little lump sum." Charles practically growled each word out. His fists were clenched and he didn't back down when Buckingham reared his ugly head. He did, however, try to calm himself down when he felt Rosemary squeeze his arm in warning. "I thought a wealthy Lord like yourself wouldn't stress over matters such as a dowry. Unless, there is something you wish to tell me, Lord Buckingham. Do I have to worry about my sister marrying a man who cannot provide for her?"

Rosemary nearly choked on her tongue. She yanked on her brother's arm a little more forcefully and hissed out his name to gain his attention. Buckingham was a man who never forgot about those who scorned and humiliated him. The last thing Rosemary needed was Charles having a hand in making her life more of a living hell than it was soon about to be.

"No, of course not," Buckingham spat between clenched teeth. He turned his dark, cold, devil-like eyes on Rosemary and gave a cruel smirk when she flinched under his gaze. "The wedding is in five months and so I expect her to bring forth the rest of her dowry. That is, if she can afford it."

Buckingham left without another word, but he harshly brushed up against Rosemary, making her tiny frame move like she was some rag doll. If Charles hadn't been supporting her with his arm, then she surely would have made a fool out of herself, as she would have been covered in mud.

"I hate that man," Charles hissed. He yanked Rosemary forward and took larger strides than she could keep up with. "I hope he burns in the fiery pits of hell."

"You're the one who agreed that I would marry him," Rosemary pointed out. Five months - in five months she would be Buckingham's wife … officially his property. She shivered violently and Charles pulled her closer.

"Do you think I actually want you to marry that man? Wolsey proposed it and the church agreed."

"WHAT?" People, who had been startled, looked over in Rosemary's direction. The girl blushed, but she lowered her voice and hissed, "Why would he do that?"

Charles rolled his eyes. "Wolsey's just looking out for himself."

"But what would he gain out of me marrying Buckingham?"

Charles sighed and kissed the top of his sister's head. "I wish I knew, Rosie, I wish I knew."

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimer:**

– **The Tudors: TM Productions Limited/PA Tudors Inc. An Ireland-Canada Co-Production. All rights reserved.**

– **© 2016 Showtime Networks Inc. and Showtime Digital Inc. All rights reserved.**

– **I am in no connection with the productions and networks stated above. I do not get paid to upload this story.**

– **Rosemary Brandon and the plot of this story are of my own creation.**

– **This chapter was edited and looked over by my beta HPuni101.**

– **Princess Mary (the daughter of Henry VIII) was actually born on 18th February, 1516.**

– **The Field of the Cloth of Gold was hosted from 7th to 24th June, 1520.**

– **In the series, Mary Boleyn's relationship with the King is very short lived but in reality it lasted for around three years, at least.**

– **Princess Mary was actually promised to the Dauphin in marriage when she was 2 and he was a baby. This arrangement did not take place at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.**

– **The Treaty of Universal and Perpetual Peace is based on the Treaty of London, a peace treaty promoting everlasting peace in Europe, between France, England, the Holy Roman Empire, the Papacy, Spain, Burgundy and the Netherlands, which was signed in 1518 and did not have anything to do with the Field of the Cloth of Gold.**

– **Henry VIII and Francis I did have a wrestling match at the Field of the Cloth of Gold and Francis I did win.**

– **The Palace at the Field of the Cloth of Gold was made out of canvas. It covered 10,000m2 and above its 2m high brick base were 10m high canvas walls.**

– **Red wine really did flow from the fountains at the Field of the Cloth of Gold.**

– _The Anne Boleyn Files_ **(Copyright © 2016 The Anne Boleyn Files) was a major help with finishing this chapter.**

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review! It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

Until next time! xoxo


	3. Chapter 3

**I have nothing to say other than I hope you enjoy this chapter. And Happy Halloween for those of you who celebrate the holiday.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers can be found below._

* * *

 **RHatch89:** Thank you!

 **Emmettluver2010:** I imagine, even though there was a certain way to act in public, that many of the females of Court were sometimes one of the guys. I'm glad you pointed that out.

 **HermioneandMarcus:** Thank you!

 **sweetieraquelchukwurah:** Usually reviews like yours don't bother me, but this is the third time someone has done this and I'm honestly sick of it. _Do not review on one of my other stories just to ask for me to update another._ When my inspiration and muse for Gods and Monsters comes back then I'll update it, but for the time being I'm working on other things. I'm sorry if I sound rude, but next time PM me. I just find it so disrespectful when people do that because authors work so hard on something only to have people ask for another story. So, like I said before, PM me.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: 15th September, 1514; Whitehall Palace**

Rosemary knew Jane Popincourt fairly well.

She was French, living among the English for around twelve years now. She had a position at the English court, first in the reign of Henry VII, as a distinguished tutor to teach French to the princesses Margaret and Mary, and Rosemary, too; and later in 1509, on the accession of Henry VIII, she was appointed a maid-of-honor to Catherine of Aragon.

During the Battle of the Spurs just last year, Henry's troops captured a number of French nobles, notably Louis I d'Orléans, duke of Longueville. No one knew for certain if the Duke had met Jane at the French court or not, but as her countryman, they were introduced upon his arrival at the English court and they soon began a liaison. This damaged the reputation of Jane, who was in her mid-to-late twenties, an age by which a woman would have been expected to be married. When the Duke returned to France, Jane remained in England and started her affair with Henry.

However, she wanted to return home. She was no longer welcomed at court.

"The scandal," Lady Maud Parr said as she shook her head. "I would be utterly ashamed of my daughter."

Lady Jane Guildford, an elderly woman who began her career with Elizabeth of York said, "They come and they go. My old eyes have seen many girls with the likes of her and she won't be last. But she won't last very long either. Everyone knows that the King has wandering eyes."

"She's not even that pretty." Anne Wotton stuck her nose up in the air, looking as if the sight of Jane made her sick.

Mary Fiennes looked over her delicate shoulder at the French woman and said, "She certainly did _pop in court_."

The younger girls broke out in a mass of giggles while the older ladies looked highly unamused with the immaturity. Rosemary found herself stifling her smile when Lady Guildford gave her a stern, motherly look.

Clearing her throat and giving the two younger girls a semi stern look, Rosemary said, "It's not proper to gossip in public."

"But everyone's talking about her," Mary whined. She was the youngest, only being thirteen, and she was basking in the freedom of court. She was the only daughter of Sir Thomas Fiennes, 8th Baron Dacre and Anne Bourchier. So one could only imagine how lively and excited the young girl felt to be away from her parents.

"You are a lady to the Queen," Lady Maud Parr snapped. Ever since two years — when her child Catherine was born — Lady Maud had more of a motherly aura to her. "You will act like a proper lady within this court and represent our Queen with respect and dignity."

Anne and Mary both bowed their heads, ashamed, like they had been scolwed by their own mothers.

Lady St. Leger swiftly made her appearance known and took up one of them empty spots. She leaned forwards and whispered, "Have you heard the news?"

"About Jane?" Anna piped up.

"What?" Lady St. Leger shook her head. "No. The King's new mistress is hardly any news worth to talk about. I was talking about Wolsey."

Rosemary interest spiked up. "What of him?"

Lady Guildford made a disgruntled noise and Lady St. Leger sighed. "Honestly, Jane, leave if you do not wish to hear this." Lady Guildford huffed, but she didn't move.

Satisfied that she could continue, Lady St. Leger made sure no one else was listening before she said, "The Queen has informed me that Wolsey has been appointed as Archbishop of York."

Rosemary's eyes widened. "Why?"

"All of Wolsey's affairs have prospered since Henry became the King," Lady St. Leger said. "Of course the church would recognize that."

"Did His Grace vouch for him?" Rosemary asked.

"It's more than likely," Lady St. Leger said.

Rosemary began to curse Henry in her thoughts on his sheer stupidity and she damned Wolsey to the darkest burning pit of Hell. That man was a no good snake and the fact that he had Henry in his corner was something to be concerned about. Wolsey wasn't a man who should've been underestimated; he was cunning and ambitious, resourceful and clever. All the qualities that higher power men feared in a lesser one because that meant the one lower in status was more than willing to get himself dirty and everyone around him dirty as well.

"There's also talk that the Pope will make him a cardinal!"

"Excuse me," Rosemary said. She got up from her seat and fled the common room, looking for her brother. She was certain that she would find him seducing some poor witless maiden, but instead he was talking to Anthony and William. With a smile, she interrupted their conversation and whisked her brother away. "I need to barrow Charles for a moment."

Dragging her brother through the almost deserted hallway, Rosemary didn't stop until they came to an alcove and hissed, "Is he out of his bloody mind?"

"Who?"

"Henry."

"He usually is," Charles chuckled, but when Rosemary just stared at him, he stopped. Instead, he cleared his throat. "What has he done this time?"

Obviously Charles hadn't heard the news yet, but Henry always was a complex man who had many things going on.

"He hasn't told you?" Charles shook his head. "Wolsey's been made Archbishop of York."

Charles looked greatly confused. "But Henry can't appoint Wolsey as Archbishop."

It had been said many times that Rosemary had more wit and common sense to her than Charles did. Her brother was smart enough to make a name for himself and to survive the battles and to seduce women into his bed (although his good looks and charms certainly helped with the masses he had plowed through), but Charles didn't always use his brain. Rosemary knew he had one, he surprised plenty of times in the past before, but she also knew that he actually used it far and few at times. It could have possibly been a man thing since every male thought that they were always right by some sort of default, but in that precise moment, all Rosemary wanted to do was slap her brother until the blood flow reached his (apparently) rusted brain.

"The _church_ made him Archbishop," Rosemary said with a very noticeable eye roll. The word imbecile almost slipped off of her tongue, but she caught it before she could accidentally start an argument with her brother. "Henry vouched for him."

Charles finally caught up with where Rosemary was taking the conversation and shook his head. "He never mentioned it to me. You know damn well if he did I would have tried to talk him out of it. The last thing we need is Wolsey gaining more power."

"It's too late now."

"Unless the church figures out he's broken some rules."

"No one even knows his mistress's name, or that he's bribing others."

"It's Joan Larke."

Rosemary raised an eyebrow, impressed. "How do you know that?"

"Mary doesn't like the man either, so she hired a man to follow Wolsey around. Found out he keeps her in Bridewell."

"Bridewell Palace?" Charles nodded his head. "Does Henry know?"

"I doubt it," Charles said. "Wolsey's smart enough not to mention that he has a mistress around Henry, considering that Henry had that place built as a residence for himself."

The building itself had been a project of Wolsey's given to him to be overlooked by Henry. Rosemary knew that Henry wouldn't have been pleased if he found out Wolsey only took to the project just so he could have someplace to stash his mistress.

Before the plan could form in her mind, Rosemary turned her attention back to Charles. "When did Mary tell you this?"

"A few months back," Charles said nonchalantly. "Why?"

"Did she tell you in person or did she write a letter?"

"She wrote a letter. She mentioned an illegitimate child, too."

The bastard was another useful piece of information to use against Wolsey, but Rosemary put her devious plan to the side as she gave her brother an accusing look that held no judgement. "Did it smell of her perfume?"

Charles blushed. "I can't recall."

Rosemary snorted. "It didn't smell of lavender and fresh grass?"

"Shut up, Rosie."

"You're a lovesick fool," Rosemary laughed. But despite her jokes, she was glad Charles found someone. "When did you two start writing?"

Rosemary and Mary wrote to each other once every month ever since Henry had agreed to the negotiated peace treaty with France that Wolsey had set up.

"Almost a month after she had left," Charles said.

With a heavy sigh, Rosemary said, "She's engaged, Charles."

"I know that."

"That's never stopped you before," Rosemary pointed out. She sometimes feared that God would punish her brother too harshly for committing adultery like it was some sort of sport.

"She's in France, Rosie." Charles rolled his eyes, although they looked sad when he remembered how far away Mary was. "There's nothing I can do."

Defeat hadn't sound right coming from her brother's lips. She knew her brother all too well and knew that he'd find someway to have Mary, Henry be damned. Those two would end up together even if that meant they had to go against the one person they both loved.

"And there's the fact that she's Henry's sister," Rosemary reminded him. "Just be careful." She knew that hurting Henry was one of the last thing Charles ever wanted to do.

Charles rolled his eyes and escorted his sister back to the main hall. "You make it seem like we'll marry one day."

"I do love the name Frances for a girl," Rosemary said mockingly.

"Don't you have enough nieces?" Charles asked with smile.

"I only have two and I never see them." Rosemary pouted at her brother and gave him an accusing glare. Anne Browne had been a sweet lady who had given Charles two beautiful baby girls — Anne and Mary, the latter had been named in honor of Rosemary.

"I've secured a place for Anne at the court of Archduchess Margaret of Savoy and Mary is with her."

Rosemary continued to pout. "It wouldn't kill Anne to write to me."

Charles chuckled at his sister's childish behavior. Rosemary adored her nieces and showered them both with love and affection anytime she saw them.

"I'll tell Anne to write to you next time I receive her letter."

"You should have told her to do that in first place," Rosemary said, but she smiled graciously. "But I do suppose it'd be nice to have a nephew to spoil."

"What name do you like for a boy?"

"Anyone of them, as long as it isn't Henry."

 **~Page Break~**

The day had been uneventful just like the rest. After the Royal court had returned from France, everyone fell back into their usual patterns. Charles went back to prancing around the court as he defiled woman after woman; Henry returned to his kingly duties and defiling woman after woman, too, taking a mistress here and there; the Queen resorted back to praying that her marriage would be fixed; and Rosemary continued on with playing the role of the perfect bride to be.

Rosemary hadn't seen much of her fiancé and she thanked God everyday when she didn't run into him. If anyone asked, she would tell them that he was home at Brecon Castle, awaiting for her arrival. No one seemed to believe her, they all knew how cruel Buckingham could be, but it seemed to do the trick. Everyone would just congratulate her and wished her the best with pity in their eyes.

By now, almost every nobleman of the court had heard of Buckingham's plot to overthrow Henry. You had those who chose to stand by the King, those who were with Buckingham and those who were standing idly by. And, of course, people had their thoughts about Rosemary. She had heard her fair share of whispers about her being spread around court from person to person, and she could even feel them burning holes into the back of her head at times. She knew that their judgement and curiosity was a given, but she scoffed in anyone's face if they thought that she'd ever betray Henry. Albeit, he was an egotistical arsehole who had more whores under his belt than manners, but she loved him nonetheless. He had been a brother to her throughout the years they had been together and she would defend him until her last dying breath.

Rosemary also noticed that Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk and Thomas Boleyn, 1st Earl of Ormond had taken a particular interest in her. Every move she made, they watched; every word she said, they listened to closely; and everywhere she went, they followed. She wasn't sure why they were following her, but she had a strong inkling that Buckingham had put them up to it. She had seen them many times before around Buckingham and she knew that both men entertained the ideal of Buckingham becoming king, but she wouldn't stand for having them follow her around. The last thing she needed was someone checking up on her and reporting her conversations that she had with Charles to her fiancé, who already hated her brother.

But Norfolk and Buckingham following her fiancé's orders didn't surprise her, it was the fact that she had also seen the brother-in-laws speaking with Wolsey. Now _that_ struck Rosemary as odd. She didn't think that Wolsey would so carelessly give his alliance to Buckingham unless there was definite proof that Buckingham would be victorious in his assassination. That was, unless, Wolsey was helping Buckingham carry out his ridiculous plan. She was unsure of Wolsey's motives, but she didn't like either outcome that had conjured up in her mind.

"Lady Brandon, may I have a word with you?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Rosemary turned around and walked towards Wolsey as he stood outside his office chambers. "What can I do for you, Archbishop?"

Wolsey's lips twitched at the use of his new title, boosting his ego no doubt. He gestured Rosemary into his office. "I would like to talk in private, if that is alright with you."

"Certainly," Rosemary said as she stepped into the room. She took a seat and watched Wolsey closely. She was in the lion's den now and she felt like the prey as Wolsey stared at her. "What would you like to talk about?"

Wolsey took his seat behind his desk and folded his hands, making himself appear to be less hostile and cunning than he truly was. "I hear that your wedding is soon to come."

Rosemary nodded her head.

"How do you feel about that?"

"It's my duty, is it not? God created man and woman to marry so that they can create more of His children."

Wolsey forced a smile. "Yes, yes, of course. And how do you feel about your fiancé?"

Rosemary narrowed her eyes. "What is this about, Wolsey?"

The Archbishop dropped the smile and said, "How well do you know your fiancé?"

"Not well enough," Rosemary admitted. "But who ever does?"

Wolsey ignored Rosemary's question and pulled something out of his desk. It was stack of parchment paper and he carelessly flipped through them. "I have multiple reports that your fiancé has committed multiple acts of treason."

"Like attempts of assassinating the King?" Rosemary rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Everyone knows this, but yet he's still walking around a free man. Why is that? Because like you said, it's treason."

"We have no proof."

"When did men like you need proof?"

"His Grace wants us to have definite proof," Wolsey said with a curled lip. "If it were up to me, Buckingham would already be in the Tower and executed tomorrow, but we are all humble servants of His Grace and must oblige by his rules. I have, however, orchestrated a group of men who are acting as spies for me."

"Who?" Rosemary asked with suspicion. No nobleman liked Wolsey, so it was hard to believe that there would be any willing to work for him.

"I believe you've noticed them following you."

"Norfolk and Boleyn?" Rosemary almost laughed. They were two respectable, well known noblemen. There was no way, come hell or high waters, that they'd ever do something for Wolsey. "And, pray tell, how did _you_ manage to get them to do your bidding?"

"With promises that His Grace would bestow upon them more riches, and titles, and land, of course," Wolsey said with a smirk.

"Of course," Rosemary said with an eye roll. "If Norfolk and Boleyn are working for you then what do you want from me?"

Wolsey smirk became all the more predatory. "You, my dear, are the perfect weapon."

Rosemary didn't like the look in Wolsey's eyes and she hated to admit it, but it sent chills down her back. She didn't trust her voice so she just stared at him until he continued on with his explanation.

"You will be the true reason behind Buckingham's downfall. You'll soon be his wife and I suspect that you'll play your part well. And by that I mean you must be the perfect wife; you will produce heirs, smile and say nothing. You will always be subservient to your husband, a mother to his children and a docile adornment to his household. You will be his ideal wife."

Produce heirs? Rosemary always got a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought of producing children with Buckingham. She knew a mother loved all her children unconditionally, but how could she love something that also came from Buckingham — something that would always be half of him? It almost, if not truly, seemed unthinkable.

Clearing her throat, Rosemary said, "And how will that contribute to his downfall?"

If it was possible, Wolsey's smirk grew. "You will be the perfect unsuspected spy. No doubt Buckingham will talk around you because you will be his wife and a _female_. He won't expect you to have the backbone to go against him since he terrifies you, correct?"

Rosemary glared at Wolsey again, but the Archbishop held his hands up in surrender and said, "It's nothing to be ashamed of, Lady Brandon. I do believe that Buckingham terrifies everyone just a little."

"You don't seem terrified of him," Rosemary said.

"What reasons would I have to be terrified of Buckingham?"

"You know why," Rosemary said, watching the Archbishop closely. "He believes the King has given you too much power."

Wolsey simply laughed. "All that I possess is through hard work and the grace of God."

Rosemary highly doubted that, but she kept her opinions to herself. "So you want me to report whatever Buckingham is planning?"

"His every move."

"I doubt he'll let me send letters to His Grace, let alone you. How do you expect to receive my letters?"

"I'm positive you're brother will help you."

"Charles hates you," Rosemary pointed out.

"And so do you," Wolsey said. He looked her dead in the eyes and dropped his smirk. "I hold a great loathing for the both of you as well, but for some reason His Grace holds the two of you in high regards above everyone else, and he'd do anything for you. Just like the two of you would do anything for him. Besides, I do believe that your brother hates Buckingham more than he hates me."

Rosemary knew he was right, on both accounts. The siblings would die for Henry and Charles greatly wanted to watch Buckingham burn. "I'll talk to Charles."

"Good." And the smirk returned. "If we can all work together I'm sure we can dissolve this issue rather quickly."

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimer:  
** **  
**– **The Tudors: TM Productions Limited/PA Tudors Inc. An Ireland-Canada Co-Production. All rights reserved.**

– **© 2016 Showtime Networks Inc. and Showtime Digital Inc. All rights reserved.**

– **I am in no connection with the productions and networks stated above. I do not get paid to upload this story.**

– **Rosemary Brandon and the plot of this story are of my own creation.**

– **This chapter was edited and looked over by my beta HPuni101.**

– **Jane Popincourt was the very first mistress of Henry VIII. She was French and had previously served as a maid-of-honour to the Queens of Louis XII and Francis I. Jane arrived at the English court to teach Princess Margaret and Princess Mary French. When she first arrived, England was ruled by Henry VII who died not long afterwards. When Henry VIII became King of England in 1509 she was promptly made a lady-in-waiting to Queen Catherine of Aragon. Just five years later she was known to be the King's mistress.**

– **Thomas Wolsey was appointed Archbishop of York on 15 September, 1514.**

– **Joan Larke was the mistress of Cardinal Thomas Wolsey and the mother of his two illegitimate children.**

– **I've made a mistake in the previous chapters pertaining to Mary Tudor's (the sister) marital status. As of now in the story, Mary is only engaged. She married Louis XII on 9 October, 1514.**

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review! It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time! xoxo**


	4. Chapter 4

FOREWARNING: Readers should be aware that from this point on the story is strictly 18+ only. There will also be potential disturbing content, including **graphic sex, violence, rape, spousal abuse, foul language, mentions of abortion/miscarriage, and a host of other possible offensive elements.** I will personally attempt to put a warning on the chapters that contain any possible triggers, but I apologize in advance if I forget to do so. This is why I'm warning you now. I also implore that you continue to read this story with caution, especially if anything listed above makes you uncomfortable. This will be my only warning, so again, read at your own risk or please leave now. Any comments that I think are rude will be deleted and you will be reported.

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 **So….what happened to all my reviewers? Like, I get it, you have a life and all, but come on people. I need to know that people are still reading my story and liking it. Hell, just drop by and type something completely weird, or just say hello. I miss interacting with you all, and I try to make every chapter perfect for you. I know this sounds like I'm whining and complaining, but guess what? I am. So please try and review. Pretty please? I'm groveling on my knees here people. Have mercy.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers can be found below._

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 **HermioneandMarcus** : Thank you!

 **Emmettluver2010** : Romance? I'm sorry that I'm depriving you of it, but I don't think there's a romantical bone in Buckingham's body. For the time being, I assume that the tension between Rosemary and Henry could be considered as romance since there's obviously something there.

 **RHatch89** : Thank you!

 **Guest** : Uhhhhh….you're not going to like this chapter then, lol.

 **Guest** : I think there is a story kind of like that, but I'm planning on doing a Francis I/Princess Elizabeth (Henry's sister who died) story soon as well.

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 **Chapter 4: 16th November, 1514; Greenwich Palace (Palace of Placentia)**

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"Why? You look beautiful, darling."

Rosemary stared at her reflection in the mirror, noticing how different she actually looked. The gown, which was newly bought, was a pure emerald green with golden trims. It had been tailored from stain, with silk cuffs. The antique gold trim accented the gown at the collar, waist and biceps while the back was laced up with a full modesty panel.

The gown was full length, along with the faded grey cloak that was made of velvet. Majority of Rosemary's body was covered, but the gown did have a plunging neckline, which was permissible. To draw even more attention to her breasts, Rosemary wore the beautiful blue crystal necklace that Charles had given to her for her birthday last year.

Her hair was worn loose as a symbol of purity, which was something Rosemary hasn't possessed in ages.

"Thank you, Anne," Rosemary said to her older sister. "I'm just nervous."

Anne Shilston (née Brandon) laughed. It was a light, whimsical sound, almost like wind chimes, just like Rosemary's laughter. "It's alright to be nervous. Why, I almost fainted when I married John."

Rosemary cringed, not wanting to think about her sister's awkward marriage. It had been done out of a sense of duty to their families, in hopes of gaining more land and money. Anne and John Shilston certainly weren't the definition of a happy marriage, but they tolerated each other at best. Rosemary wasn't envious of her sister's relationship, but she had held onto a hopeless dream of marrying out of love. She had never been a hopeless romantic, but marrying because she was in love sounded much better than marrying because it was what was expected of her.

Unlike her half sister Katherine, Rosemary wasn't thrilled with the prospect of marriage. Anne had agreed to her arrangement because she would rather die than marry someone beneath her since she was the sister of a Duke and soon to be Duchess. But just like their parents, Anne and her husband rarely acknowledged each other. Then there had been Elizabeth — the other half sister who had turned her back on her family and was almost disowned all in the name of love. Although Rosemary was close with Anne and Katherine, she did miss Elizabeth — Lizzy, as she liked to be called, would have known what to say to calm Rosemary's nerves. Her second half sister always did have a big spirit. Rosemary secretly wished that she had Lizzy's courage to stand up to her family and say no….

But that proud smile on her sister's face would have been too painful to break. So, like majority of the women of her society, Rosemary pushed her wants and needs out of her mind, and focused on her family's honor.

"Well," Rosemary sighed, staring into her green eyes as she held her head high and smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in her gown. "I'm ready to get married."

Not wasting another second, Anne opened the chamber doors, smiling at their curious siblings who had been patiently waiting. "Ladies and good sir, may I present to you, Lady Rosemary Brandon."

Rosemary stepped out of the room, gracing those wishing to see her with her presence.

"Oh, Rosie!" Katherine was was first to speak. She squealed, holding herself back from ruining the gown with a hug. "You look so beautiful! You look absolutely stunning! So graceful, so elegant, Rosie, you look like a goddess!"

Rosemary blushed under her sister's praise. She certainly didn't look like a goddess, but she accepted the compliment nonetheless. Catching Lizzy's eye, the eldest Brandon daughter gave her little sister a warm, small smile. Lizzy was a woman of few words, she allowed her actions to speak for her, but it was the little things that proved she still had a heart, even if her siblings hadn't approved of her marriage.

A loud, gruff throat clearing came from the doorway, gaining their attention. "Katherine, Lizzy, escort Anne to her seat," Charles said.

Quickly, the two sisters each did as they were told and made their way to their proper seats. Anne lingered in the doorway, though, staring her little sister down with her sharp eyes.

"Is there a problem, Anne?" Charles asked his sister testily.

Unfazed by her brother's hard tone of voice, Anne stuck her nose up in the air. "Her eyes are still a mess. She looks like she hasn't slept in days."

That's because she hadn't.

Rosemary had spent the months leading up to this day by not sleeping a wink. Her mind was too preoccupied to shut down so she had thrown herself into her courtly duties. The Queen had certainly been quite impressed and pleased by Rosemary's sudden newfound interest in charity.

"She looks absolutely beautiful," Charles said. He raised a fine, thick eyebrow. "Is there anything else you're concerned with?"

Anne's mouth twitched, but she didn't say anything.

Charles looked at one of the servants. "Please, go take my sister to her seat."

Not wanting to anger the Duke, the servant quickly did as he was told. Everyone knew that Charles was a nice man, but he and Anne had never gotten along very well and there had been a few occasions when people had witnessed them arguing. They would never admit it, but they were a lot alike.

"You look beautiful either way." Anne blew Rosemary a kiss and hurried out the door with the servant in tow.

Charles handed her two frosty white bouquets. The scent of roses and orange blossoms and freesia engulfed Rosemary in a delicate mist.

"Calm down, Rosie," Charles said soothingly and jokingly said, "You'll embarrass me if you faint."

Charles's calming demeanor was helping her nerves, but the second she had heard the piano playing her legs began to shake. Maybe she began to hyperventilate, too, she didn't know. It was just getting harder to breathe.

The music morphed into a new song.

Charles linked his arm through his sister's and tugged her closer. "Come, Rosie, it's time."

"Please don't let me fall, Charles," Rosemary whispered.

Charles acknowledged that he had heard her by squeezing her hand. "I'll never let go until you tell me to."

As the brother and sister began to descend, Rosemary focused her breathing on the slow tempo of the march. Like the respectable woman she was raised to be, Rosemary kept her head held high as the murmurs and rustling of the audience increased as she came into view. Blood flooded her cheeks at the sounds, but she kept her facial expression neutral.

As soon as her feet were passed the stairs, Rosemary sought out her future husband's eyes. She got distracted by all the white blossoms that hung from everything that wasn't breathing. Silver lace created bountiful white rose bouquets that were dripping with a tantalizing scent. It was odd to see one of the places that had served as her home — that had been bleak and colorless ever since she was a child — so light and full of life. The atmosphere was thickly suffocating, however.

Rosemary finally found who she was looking for, though, standing beneath the arch with more flowers and more white.

She noticed Henry Stafford, 1st Earl of Wiltshire standing next to him and the priest standing behind them. She couldn't see her sisters or the Royal family who were standing in the front row. Her soon to be in-laws and step children were nowhere to be seen either, but they were the last people she needed to think of. So she concentrated on the man who was going to become her husband.

All Rosemary could do was stare at Buckingham's face; it was like tunnel vision, his face was all she could see and it was overwhelming. His eyes were a dark, colorless black; a stern face that was almost cut up with the depth of his emotions. And then, as he met Rosemary's gaze, his face became as grim and neutral as hers.

Suddenly, it was only the pressure of her brother's hand that kept her from turning around and running far away.

The march was too fast as Rosemary tried to compose herself. Painfully, all too soon, she was right there. Like a well trained servant, Buckingham held his hand out. Charles performed the ancient practice as old as the world and begrudgingly placed Rosemary's hand into Buckingham's. Both hands were cool to the touch and Rosemary felt her stomach churn.

Everyone in the audience stood, whispering to one another. The priest cleared his throat, capturing everyone's attention.

"Please join hands." Rosemary and Buckingham did as they were instructed, and the priest continued. "Dearly beloved friends, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of his congregation, to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is an honorable state, instituted of God in Paradise, in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church: which holy state Christ adorned and beautified with his presence and first miracle that he wrought in Cana of Galilee, and is commended of Saint Paul to be honorable among all men, and therefore is not to be enterprise, nor taken in hand unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God, duly considering the causes for the which matrimony was ordained.

One was the procreation of children, to be brought up in the fear and nurture of the Lord, and praise of God. Secondly, it was ordained for a remedy against sin and to avoid fornication that such persons as have not the gift of continence might marry, and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ body. Thirdly, for the mutual societies, help, and comfort, that the one ought to have of the other, both in prosperity and adversity, into the which holy state these two persons present, come now to be joined. Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace."

Rosemary silently wished that someone, anyone, would have spoke against Buckingham. Her eyes meet with Henry's for a split second and he gave her a look of pity before he averted his gaze to somewhere else. She didn't dare glance Charles's way because she knew it would only serve to hurt her brother. He didn't want to give her away in the first place, but just like Rosemary, he was upholding his role as a Duke and head of their family.

When no one spoke up, the priest said, "I require and charge you, as you will answer at the dreadful Day of Judgment, when the secretes of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you do know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, that you confess it. For be well assured, that so many as coupled together, otherwise than God's word does allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their Matrimony lawful."

Rosemary bit her tongue and allowed the ceremony to go on.

"Will you have this woman to be your wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her, in sickness, and in health? And forsaking all other, keep yourself only to her, as long as you both shall live?"

"I will," Buckingham said gruffly.

The priest turned to Rosemary and said, "Will you have this man to be your wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all other, keep yourself only to him as long as you both shall live?"

All eyes turned to her then, anticipating for her to speak now. She took a slow, shaky breath before she spoke. Buckingham surprised her when his fingers pressed forcefully against her bones, almost making them crack under the pressure of his strong grip.

"I will," she all but gasped, but let out a relief breath when Buckingham's grip loosened.

Buckingham looked Rosemary in the eyes as he held onto her hand, saying, "I take you to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us depart; according to God's holy ordinance, and thereto I plight the my ring."

With shaky hands, Rosemary said, "I take you to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us depart, according to God's holy ordinance: and thereto I give the my ring."

Buckingham placed the ring upon the fourth finger of Rosemary's left hand and repeated after the priest. "With this ring I be wed: with my body I worship: and with all my worldly goodness, I endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Rosemary did the same with Buckingham and she hoped the tremor in her voice wasn't noticeable. The ring on her finger felt heavy, like it would weigh her down and when she put the other one on Buckingham's finger, it felt like she was sealing her fate with the Devil himself.

After the ring was placed on Buckingham's finger, they both got on their knees before the priest who stood in front of them with a round piece of bread in his hand, and he said, "The Body of Christ."

Rosemary and Buckingham responded with, "Amen."

With their heads tilted slightly back, they opened their mouths wide and extended their tongue. The priest then placed the Sacred Host on their tongues.

The priest then took a cup and said, "The Blood of Christ."

"Amen."

The priest placed the rim of the cup at their lips and both of them took a sip from the cup.

Buckingham stood up first and he extended his hand to help Rosemary up. Once they were both standing they turned to face the crowd with the same grim expression on their faces.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife," the priest said. "You may kiss the bride."

Pulling Rosemary closer to him, Buckingham crushed his mouth to Rosemary's, not giving her a second to respond. Rosemary put her hands against his chest and tried to push him away so she could breathe, but Buckingham was relentless.

When they broke apart, the church erupted in applauses.

And Rosemary didn't know how she managed to keep everything in her stomach.

 **~Page Break~**

The wedding flowed into the reception party smoothly, much to Rosemary's pleasure. The sun was setting behind the trees, the purple merged with the pink in the sky, giving off an illuminating shine, making the entire garden look like an autumn paradise as the colorful leaves glistened from the layer of dew. Candle lights reached up into the trees, glimmering as Buckingham and Rosemary sat underneath the glowing white flowers. There were a great amount of flowers, probably in the thousands, serving as a fragrant, airy tent over the dance floor set up on the grass under the ancient cedar trees. The autumn evening surrounded them as the guest mingled with one another. Children who were enjoying an evening in the leaves took advantage of the freedom they had for the night. The crowd spread out under the soft shine of the twinkling lights, and they greeted the married couple with smiles and compliments. A few children had even ran up, kissed Rosemary on the cheeks, and went on their way giggling.

A line had formed to congratulate the couple, but both Buckingham and Rosemary barely smiled at their guests. It was rude, but Rosemary no longer had the energy to fake a smile.

Behind their friends were Rosemary's new brother and sister in-laws, Henry and Elizabeth Stafford, the latter being married to Robert Radcliffe, 1st Earl of Sussex. Rosemary hadn't realized it, but she had been holding her breath when Elizabeth reached out and embraced her brother. Next to her was her seven year-old son Henry Radcliffe, who just stared at Rosemary with child-like wonderment. As Elizabeth whispered into Buckingham's ear, Henry Stafford — using his cane to support his bad leg — distracted Rosemary.

"Ah, Lady Rosemary," he said. "You look stunning tonight. Henry, doesn't she look stunning?"

"Thank you, Earl Wiltshire," Rosemary said. She noticed Elizabeth still holding Buckingham.

Henry Radcliffe stepped forward shyly and bowed. "You look beautiful, Lady Rosemary."

"I must say, you bypassed my expectations, Lady Rosemary." It was the first time Elizabeth had directly spoken to Rosemary ever. She seemed like she was disappointed that she couldn't find anything to complain about. "Or, should I say, Lady Stafford?"

Despite her terrible personality, Elizabeth was every bit as lovely as Rosemary and the other women at the celebration. She eyed Rosemary with a look that was much more speculative than it was resigned, and she then reached out to take the girl's hand.

"Congratulations are in order." She smiled, a little rueful. "I was just telling Edward how I just know that you'll be a good wife and make him very happy, just like you're supposed to. We'll be seeing each other more often now, I'm sure. We should set a date for lunch soon, yes?"

"Of course," Rosemary said breathlessly. "As soon as everything has settled."

"Perhaps more nieces and nephews are in my future soon?"

Rosemary felt her face burning up, shocked by Elizabeth's bluntness. Buckingham just cocked an eyebrow and drank his wine. "Elizabeth," he said, almost lazily. "We just got married."

"And?" Elizabeth raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and inspected the couple closely. Rosemary flinched under her sister-in-law's gaze. "That means nothing. You and Eleanor got pregnant a month after the two of you got married, and had your other children a year or two after. Besides, Rosemary dear, your good looks won't last forever. You best start now while you're still young and beautiful."

And there it was, Elizabeth's opening.

It was classic Elizabeth to give advice, but criticize at the same time. It was every woman's fear that their youthfulness and beauty would one day fade, and even though Rosemary's gene pool was known for its beautiful women no matter what age, she couldn't help but take Elizabeth's words into consideration. Buckingham already despised her, so he certainly didn't want to lay with her even though it was mandatory, or so Rosemary thought. It had always been a dream of hers to become a mother, but now she feared that her dream would come true with the wrong man.

"She'll do her duty to the best of her ability," Buckingham said in a tight voice. He didn't want this marriage either, and it was obvious that he wouldn't lift a finger to make it easier for the both of them.

"Why, of course she will. I was just giving her some womanly advice," Elizabeth said with a roll of her dark eyes. She stepped towards Rosemary and pulled her into a stiff hug. "Again, darlings, congratulations."

All the standard traditions were kept. They were blinded by candle lights as they held the knife over a spectacular cake that looked like it would be around hundreds of schillings. It was done around a relatively intimate group of friends and family. They took turns shoving cake in each other's faces; Buckingham didn't seem all too eager to swallow his portion as Rosemary watched in silence. Rosemary threw her bouquet with atypical skill, right into her half-sister Katherine's surprised hands.

When the music started, Buckingham pulled Rosemary into his arms for the customary first dance. They moved like they were gliding through the wind, easily falling in sync with one another. Even though Rosemary knew how to dance, which was required of her to learn at a young age, Buckingham did all the work, and Rosemary twirled effortlessly under the glow of the lights and the bright flashes from all the white.

Thankfully, Charles swept in and spun Rosemary away from her stone faced, silent husband. It was easy to dance with Charles, too. He was swift with his footing and effortlessly glided Rosemary on the dance floor. Buckingham and Elizabeth spun around with them just as easily, but they looked like they were talking about something serious.

"Are you enjoying yourself? Be honest," he whispered to Rosemary, speaking to her the for first time that night.

She nodded her head. "It's been lovely. Are you enjoying the party?"

"Surprisingly, yes," he said. He twirled her again as they swayed to the music. "I meant what I said, about having his head if he places his hands on you like that again. I didn't just say that because I was angry; I meant it."

Rosemary was at a lost for words for a second. She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. "Thank you. It was kind of you to say."

"I speak nothing but the truth." He gave her a cheeky, all too innocent smile.

"I think you mean you speak nothing but alternative truths that could be qualified as lies," Rosemary said.

"Ouch," Charles drawled out dramatically and placed a hand over his heart. "Do you enjoy hurting my feelings?"

"I'm surprised you feel anything anywhere else besides in your trousers." Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Now, that surprises me."

"You're so cruel," Charles mumbled, staring at Rosemary with amusement. "You were once as bad as me."

"Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Charles pulled Rosemary closer to him and dipped her.

"Well, I guess I was a homewrecker, too, at one point in my life."

"It's my favorite thing to do to pass the time." Charles's tone of voice was suggestive, wagging his eyebrow at her. Rosemary laughed as he leaned down to kiss her forehead while they danced.

The music changed, and Buckingham tapped on Charles's shoulder.

"I expect nothing but the best from you, Rosemary. Do not forget that you are now my wife. I own you."

Rosemary spoke through a tight throat, trying to appease her husband. "I know perfectly well that I am your wife, trust me, I haven't forgotten. I won't fail you, though. It would bring dishonor to my family if I did."

That seemed to please Buckingham even though he rolled his eyes. "I suppose I'll leave it alone. Just for now, though. This isn't the last time we'll speak about this."

"I know."

Charles finally cut in again, whisking Rosemary away from her husband. They didn't speak right away. They just stood on the dance floor, not even moving to the music as they swayed back and forth aimlessly. Charles's face was set in a sneer, his eyes looked a million miles away. It was obvious that seeing Rosemary in Buckingham's arms had put him in a mood.

"What did he say?" Charles asked when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Nothing of importance. He was just being his usual overbearing self."

Charles wasn't fazed by Rosemary's words. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Rosemary sighed. As she danced with Charles, she realized how much she was actually going to miss him. He may not have been Lizzy, who knew exactly what to say to lift someone's spirits, but Charles had always tried his hardest to keep a smile on her face. He wasn't like Anne ethier, who was always sticking her nose up at everyone who wasn't a respectable courtier. He was simply Charles — her jubilant brother who spoke his opinions even when no one wanted to hear it and put others before himself, too.

"You look beautiful tonight."

"This is the second time you've said that."

"That's because it's true. You look utterly, heartbreakingly beautiful tonight. I'm surprised I haven't had to beat any of the men off with a stick yet. Didn't you look in the mirror today?"

"Of course I did. Anne wouldn't stop pushing me in front of it."

Charles laughed and the lights twinkled above their heads like a soft halo. "Well, I'm glad. Remind me to thank her."

Just as they danced passed a few mirrors, Rosemary caught a glimpse of Charles's reflection — a perfect duplicate of his chiseled face — with Rosemary looking like his dark-haired feminine twin. Her skin was cream and roses, her eyes were huge with contentment and framed with thick lashes. Being twirled in Charles's arms, Rosemary could see why Katherine thought she looked like a goddess now. Her face was practically radiant to the point of saying she was glowing, which was surprising due to who she was now married to. The dress complimented her dark features, bringing them out to be gazed up with envy. It was a flattering sight, though, seeing two beautiful people together with a certain air to them.

Something caught Charles's eyes over Rosemary's head, making him frown. "Oh," he said dryly. "It's you."

"Is that anyway to speak to your King, Charles?"

Rosemary turned around and met Henry's smirking face. The two friends stared at each other before Henry looked at Rosemary. "I was just coming to ask if I could dance with the lovely bride. I haven't had a chance yet."

"Did your whores get boring after a while?" Charles asked sarcastically.

"Like you're one to talk. And I haven't been the only one waiting to dance with your beautiful sister." Henry said. He was purposely egging Charles on, knowing that his best friend had a ferocious temper just like him. "I just thought that as her King, I'd get the privilege to do so before the others."

"Over my dead —"

"I'd love to dance with you, Henry," Rosemary said a little too sweetly. She turned to Charles. "Just one dance, ok?"

"I'll go find Anthony and William," Charles murmured, leaving them alone.

"You do look absolutely beautiful," Henry said and he began pulling Rosemary around in a slow circle that didn't match the tempo of the music coming from behind.

Rosemary smiled. "Thank you, Harry."

"It's almost like you're married to a beast now," Henry said quietly with a chuckle. "He certainly has the face of one."

"Are you going to make fun of my husband's looks the rest of the night?" Rosemary asked with a smile.

"Oh, someone's already protective over their spouse."

"Please, protecting him is the last thing on my mind. I just don't want to laugh every time I see his face and think of what you said."

"You might as well laugh at him while you can. You'll only have a year with him."

"A year? What's going to happen a year from."

"Wolsey is working relentlessly to have the proper evidence brought up against your husband."

"And if it doesn't happen within a year's time, what happens?"

"To you or to him?" Henry took a deep breath before he answered his own question. "I truly don't know. I assume you'll still be married to him if he hasn't dropped dead by that time, only if you could be so lucky. But he won't hurt you; you're still under my protection as long as I am King. Buckingham is a different story," he laughed without humor. "You know exactly what'll happen — we all do. And you'll probably be the testimony that seals his fate. Wolsey informed me of your involvement with this."

Rosemary's face paled. No doubt that Wolsey's demands were high, but she would have to try. Not just for her sake, but for Henry's as well. She knew that Buckingham was an unforgivable man who didn't take kindly to those who went against him, but she could never imagine being the one to ultimately condemn Buckingham to his death. She didn't know why, but for some reason the thought seemed odd. Maybe it was her wishful thinking that she could persuade Buckingham away from his villainous actions to spare not only his life, but her sanity within their marriage; she didn't know. The only thing she did know was that she could never face Buckingham when the truth got out, with him locked away in the Tower or not. She wasn't going to be able to face any of the Stafford family once word of her involvement in Buckingham's downfall reached their ears. Rosemary knew that her future was now bleak and dark, maybe even cold if she ever rotted in Tower. She wouldn't have put is passed Wolsey and his two spies (Norfolk and Boleyn) to attempt to place half of the treason on her as well since the three men held a great disdain for her, and the feeling was absolutely mutual.

"But let's not talk about such morbid things." Henry spun her around and said, "It's a happy day!" He grinned widely for a moment, and then his smile faded. His expression turned serious. "Are you happy, Rosemary?"

Rosemary looked down at their shoes and shrugged her shoulders. "I could have married an old man."

"That isn't answering my question."

Was she happy? No, she wasn't happy, but she wasn't sad either. She honestly didn't know what to feel and by the look on Buckingham's face as he spoke with his brother, it told her that he wasn't all too happy about anything. How could they be happy? They were thrown together in agreement to marry and they didn't get a single word in edgewise. Rosemary didn't know how she would spend the rest of her life with Buckingham.

"I'm content," she said after a few minutes of silence.

"That's all that matters I suppose."

The two friends continued their dance in silence with nothing left to say. As the song was finally coming to an end, something crashing to the ground caught their attention. Women scurried back, alarmed by what was happening near the buffet table as the men rushed to see what was happening.

"Oh, no," Rosemary whispered to herself and untangled her arms from Henry. She quickly made her way to the front, shaking off Henry's hand as he tried to pull her back. The closer she got, the easier it was to see that it was four males fighting, but not just any males — Buckingham and his brother were going toe to toe with Charles and Anthony Knivert.

Henry Stafford charged at Anthony, throwing his forearms up to protect himself, but Anthony slipped to the side, avoiding a punch in the face. He wormed his way behind Stafford and shoved him forward, knocking him into the ground with a harsh thud.

Buckingham pulled out a nice stiff left, which he planned to follow with a right cross, but Charles slipped to the left, which threw Buckingham off enough so that he could step to the right and get a handful of his hair. Charles pulled Buckingham's head forward and almost broke his nose with his head. Still holding his hair in one hand, Charles got his other hand into Buckingham's crotch and put his shoulder into him and lifted him off the ground and slammed him down on top of one of the unoccupied tables. Buckingham grunted, and slowly slid off the table.

"Charles Brandon!" Rosemary's distressed voice got swallowed up by the sound of the men's bodies being thrown around punch after punch.

Somehow Henry Stafford had gotten back to his feet and had Anthony down on the ground. But seeing his brother gone knocked to the floor, Stafford tackled Charles, a clean shoulder-to-shoulder hit that arched Charles's spine. Stafford kept coming, driving his legs, finishing the hit.

"You will stop this foolishness now!" Henry's voice was cold as ice, sharp as razors.

William Compton and John Shilston pried their friends off of the other two, pushing them to the side. Despite her better instincts, Rosemary rushed to Charles's side, fawning over his busted lip and his more than likely bruised ribs. "What happened?" She demanded to know in a harsh whisper. It scared her at how much she sounded like Henry.

"What is the meaning of this?" Henry snarled, staring down the four men. He glared at his friend. "Charles, what happened?"

Buckingham, who was leaning against his brother for support, pointed in their direction. "You'll regret this, Brandon."

"Quiet," John Shilston growled.

"Charles," Henry tried again. "What happened?"

With eyes wide with rage, Charles glared at the two brothers who looked worse than he and Anthony. "Don't you ever speak about Rosemary in that manner ever again or I'll kill you."

Out of the crowd came Lizzy. "What did he say about my baby sister?" Some of the adults flinched at how cold her voice was.

Buckingham and Henry Stafford glared at the illegitimate Brandon daughter, but they noticed her hard gaze. The eldest Brandon daughter had that glint in her eyes; that little glimmer that said she was up to no good.

"He said Rosemary would be a whore just like her mother." Anthony glared at the two brothers and spat out some blood. "He said her children wouldn't be worthy of the Stafford name and titles. He said that Rosemary will ruin his image forever because she's only good for warming his bed and keeping him satisfied in the bedroom, and that everyone knows that's all she's good for."

Rosemary glanced around at the guests and everyone seemed shocked and commiseration. Rosemary felt absolutely mortified and she knew she wasn't hiding it well. Charles and Henry glanced at each other, silently communicating with one another, and they turned their attention back towards the two brothers. Henry Stafford looked everywhere besides Rosemary, but Buckingham had his eyes trained on her.

She felt a shiver go up her spine at how dark his eyes looked.

"I think we should forget this ever happened," Henry growled lowly. "Charles, Buckingham, see to it that you stay away from each other for the rest of the night."

"With pleasure." Buckingham put his arms around Rosemary and yanked her back to the dance floor. When they passed under the fairy lights, he pulled her against him. Buckingham moved her body along with his as if their dance had never been interrupted.

"Why would you say such things?"

"Because it's true," Buckingham said. "That will be the only thing you'll be good for. Don't you know that everyone knows that you are a whore?"

"I am not a whore." Rosemary stared intently at Buckingham while trying not to cry. "My mother wasn't a whore either."

"That's not what everyone says," Buckingham said.

"What do you mean?"

"It is no secret that I have married a harlot who didn't even have the grace to wait until marriage to loose her virginity. They all talk about it now." Buckingham chuckled right in her face, wincing in protest at his aching ribs.

"What?" Rosemary looked up at him and saw him smiling cruelly at her.

"Nothing," he said. "I've just never seen you so defeated before."

Rosemary rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'm sorry that I'm not the proper Duchess you expected." In fact, she was far from it. "But that doesn't give you the right to talk about me in such a way."

"It doesn't?" Buckingham asked, not believing her.

"No, it doesn't. How would you feel if someone said that about your daughters?"

"My daughters know the consequences," he pointed out. It didn't go unnoticed to Rosemary of that bruise and busted lip that Anna had sprouted months ago, and she too had went into hiding just like her late mother would have.

Rosemary shrugged, knowing that he was right. "Well, that doesn't mean that people don't talk about them either. And unlike your late wife, my mother raised me and my sisters to be respectable no matter what we do."

With what little time she actually had.

God as her witness, Rosemary knew that her late father would have had punished her more than once for her vulgar and unladylike language and manners. The late Elizabeth Brandon would have been appalled by her youngest child's choice of words for even a simple conversation. Rosemary didn't know when she exactly began cursing, but if she had to guess, she had picked the habit up from her paternal uncle and the men of court. Her uncle had been a spiteful old man who hated the world. His friends of court especially shared his attitude, but her uncle had never showed an ounce of affection towards his niece and nephew; at least his friends respected them, even if it was because they were under the King's ward. But due to his horrible personality, Rosemary's uncle also had a horrible vocabulary. He didn't care if she was a child or not, a girl or not, he said whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. It wouldn't have surprised Rosemary if her uncle's last words were a curse.

Leaning down, Buckingham whispered in her ear. "It doesn't matter."

"Oh, really?"

Buckingham nodded his head. His famous scowl rested comfortably on his face, making his black eyes spark a little bit with malice.

Rosemary tried to keep a straight face and pushed against his chest slightly. She stopped struggling against him when his arms tightened. "I'm not scared of you," she whispered.

Buckingham took a deep breath and looked her dead in the eyes. "But you should be."

"What are you doing to do? Beat me like your last wife?"

"No," Buckingham said, shocking her. "Not yet at least because I know you're stronger than Eleanor ever was. I'm going to break your spirit before I break your body."

"You're crazy." Rosemary hoped that she was just hearing things when her voice (supposedly) cracked. She certainly could hear and feel her heart beating like a hummingbird's as his words sunk in.

Buckingham's lips grazed Rosemary's ear. "I'm not crazy, darling. I'm just a man who unfortunately got stuck with a whiny bitch as a wife until one of us dies. And I can assure you that it will not be me to die first."

Rosemary couldn't help herself. She tried holding her in her horrified gasp, but when Buckingham smirked cruelly at her with such hate, she couldn't handle it. And before she knew it, Buckingham had also joined in, only, he had been laughing even harder as she continued to stare at him with a face full of trepidation.

"Rosemary! It's time!"

Anne's voice only served to make Rosemary realize how terrifyingly soon Buckingham would unleash his sick and cruel nature onto her.

The guests made another aisle for them. Buckingham pulled her close to his side as they made their grand exist.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"I am," Rosemary said even though they both knew it was a lie.

Everyone applauded when Buckingham raised their joint hands at the doorstep. It was customary to kiss one another, but luckily Buckingham found her just as unattractive as she found him. Then he rushed her to the carriage as the applauses died down.

The carriage was decorated with more flowers and long gossamer ribbons that were tied to the dozen of flowers.

Rosemary climbed in and Buckingham, and then they were speeding away as she waved out the window and called "I love you" to the porch, where her family and friends waved back.

The last image she registered was one of her brother and her King. Henry had both arms wrapped tenderly around the Queen and she had one arm tight around his waist, but had her free hand reached out to hold Charles's who looked like he was crying, or trying not to at least.

Buckingham squeezed her hand.

"You are mine now," he said.

Rosemary leaned her head against the window. "Sadly you're correct," she said to him. He only grunted to reply.

As they turned onto the black country and the carriage jostled with every single bump in the road, Rosemary listened to the sound of the horse's hooves hitting the solid ground, making very few sounds amongst one another as they raced the newlyweds home. Buckingham said nothing as the sound slowly faded the closer they got. Rosemary said nothing either.

The piercing, heartbroken coldness grew heavier and then washed over her body entirely.

She was now Rosemary Stafford, Duchess of Buckingham. God help her.

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimer:**

– **The Tudors: TM Productions Limited/PA Tudors Inc. An Ireland-Canada Co-Production. All rights reserved.**

 **–© 2016 Showtime Networks Inc. and Showtime Digital Inc. All rights reserved.**

 **–I am in no connection with the productions and networks stated above. I do not get paid to upload this story.**

 **–Rosemary Brandon and the plot of this story are of my own creation.**

 **–This chapter was edited and looked over by my beta HPuni101.**

 **–By Elizabeth Bruyn, William Brandon had two sons and a daughter (the actual order of birth is not known):**

 **1\. William Brandon (d. before 1500).**

 **2\. Charles Brandon, 1st Duke of Suffolk (1484 - 24 August 1545).**

 **3\. Anne Brandon, married firstly Sir John Shilston, and secondly Sir Gawain Carew.**

 **–Brandon also had two illegitimate daughters named Elizabeth and Katherine.**

 **–Information on John Shilston comes from The History of Parliament: British Political, Social & Local History © Crown copyright and The History of Parliament Trust 1964-2016.**

 **–Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham had three siblings:**

 **1\. Elizabeth Stafford, Countess of Sussex (1479 – 11 May 1532)**

 **2\. Henry Stafford, 3rd Earl of Wiltshire (1479 – 6 April 1523)**

 **3\. Anne Stafford, Countess of Huntingdon (1483–1544)**

 **–I apologize if anything is off while you read this chapter. My home computer isn't working right, my laptop for some reason won't let me copy and paste the chapters into FFN, so I had to upload this chapter from my phone.**

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review (pretty please)! It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time! xoxo**


	5. Chapter 5

**I hope everyone who celebrated Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, New Year's and all the other holidays that are out there had an amazing time. I'm happy to see us all make it into 2017.**

 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers can be found below._

* * *

 **Guest:** If only my fingers could type that quickly, and if only my brain could slow down for my poor fingers then his downfall would have been here sooner!

 **Guest:** A year? Oh….a years far too short for even more drama and chaos to happen.

 **Guest:** Charles and Henry will come to her rescue!...in a few years that is.

 **Guest:** Rosemary having Buckingham's children you say? That may or may not happen.

 **ella:** There will be relations between Henry and Rosemary, but that won't happen for a while. As for the six wives, Henry will only have two in this story. The first being Catherine of Aragon and the second, and the last, will be Rosemary. But that doesn't mean the other five won't be in mix, or causing trouble.

 **danielle:** I will be changing some of the events that happened in the show, and those will probably be the events that didn't actually happen.

 **eliza:** My Francis I/Elizabeth Tudor story is in the making! I don't have an estimate of when it will be up, but it will be sometime this year.

 **ella:** There were so many characters I hated on the show, but I'll say it was Jane Seymour, Catherine Howard, Mary Tudor (the daughter), and Henry the older he got.

 **izzy657:** Ugh, yes, I think Charles Brandon and Francis I were the hottest males on the show.

 **Guest:** My other Tudor story will be updated! I know I've been away from it for a long time, but I miss diving into Katherine's head, and I'm so close to finally ending that one; which is also sad.

 **RHatch89:** Thank you!

 **HPuni101:** Thank you for overlooking the chapter again, you're amazing!

 **TwilightEclps:** Thank you!

 **Guest:** Hopefully I'll have that story up soon.

 **Guest:** Well, Elizabeth is obviously going to be a prime and proper princess, but she's a Tudor, and royalty. So there will be times when she'll be a snob and turn her nose up at those who are lesser than her in status, and she will also sleep around. Even though it's not greatly documented, Princesses and Queens had their side pieces, too. But she'll still be a woman, wife, sister and mother. There will be heartbreak and rage, but happy moments, too. She'll be like any other female, but with a dash of Princess/Queen in her.

 **HermioneandMarcus:** Thank you!

 **Vikihungerrgame1:** Yay! My baby Vicky is back! Take your time in school. I understand how stressful and time consuming that can be. Although, Vikings has been helping with adding to that stress. You can call her Rose; she'll like that better than Rosie. Lmao, the nerd in me just couldn't help but put information at the bottom. I actually have an idea of how Rosemary will react to the Boylens. She already doesn't like Thomas Howard, or Thomas Boleyn and she doesn't like Mary Boleyn, but you'll have to see how see reacts to Anne. It's sadly only going to get worse for Rosemary, but there will be a light at the end of the tunnel for her at some point!

 **Amazeballs96:** Thank you!

* * *

 **Chapter 5: 23 March, 1515; Whitehall Palace**

"Why are you so upset about this?"

"I never gave my permission for Mary to marry Charles and I never would have."

"And, pray tell, what is wrong with my brother?"

Henry sighed heavily at the mildly offended look on Rosemary's face. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong with him."

"Then why are you so against your sister being happy for once?" Rosemary watched as Henry paced back and forth. "You promised her she could marry whomever she wished once her husband was dead and Louis is dead."

"I never actually promised anything," Henry snapped in agitation.

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "And who would you have her marry instead? The King of Portugal, Francis? Maybe you could break off your daughter's engagement with Emperor Charles and have your sister marry him instead."

Henry nodded his head with a thoughtful look on his face and pointed at Rosemary. "That's actually a good idea."

"I wasn't being serious, Harry."

Henry groaned and collapsed into his chair. "How could they do this to me?"

"God forbid that they're in love, Harry," Rosemary snickered. "You know just as well as I do that they have been in love for years."

Love between Charles and Mary had existed long before her marriage, but since Mary was a Princess she was expected to marry Kings and Princes, not Dukes; especially not the Duke who was the best friend of her Kingly brother.

"He has enemies," Henry said mainly to himself. "She married Charles in hopes to avoid being a poly in another political scheme, but he has many enemies."

"I wonder why," Rosemary drawled.

"She'll get her heart broken. You know how Mary carries her heart on her sleeve."

"Is this about your pride or protecting Mary?"

Henry gave Rosemary a look and said, "My pride."

"Really?" Rosemary smirked. "Because I think it's the latter."

"Well, you're wrong."

Ignoring Henry like he hadn't spoken, Rosemary smiled softly at her friend. "Mary's an adult who can make her own decisions without her big brother holding her hand."

"I am her lord and master, not her sibling," Henry said stubbornly. "And both Mary and Charles are banished from court and must leave London."

"Now _that_ ," Rosemary said pointedly. "Is about your pride. You know well enough that you'll forgive them once your ego stops hurting."

Henry rolled his eyes. "I should have him executed."

A normal sibling would have taken the threat seriously and would have begun begging Henry to spare their sibling's life, but Rosemary wasn't fazed by his words. Instead, she just bit the inside of her mouth to stop the laughter that was about to erupt from her. Everyone knew that Henry would never execute Charles. Banishing him, yes; but killing Charles would be like killing a part of Henry and a part of Rosemary. Not to mention that Henry would then be stuck with an enraged and bitter Rosemary until their deaths. He wasn't even sure if he would be free from her rage after that.

"I have a better chance of having Buckingham's children than you executing Charles," Rosemary said nonchalantly.

Like a child, Henry pouted. "She's too naïve."

"She's been sheltered her whole live."

"She's practically a child."

"She's eighteen."

"He's too old for her."

Rosemary wouldn't have been surprised if everyone in the Palace heard her laughing. It was the good kind of laughter where tears rolled down her face and she felt her abdominals tighten up as she tried to hold herself upright to stay in the chair, and not end up laughing on the floor like someone who was mental.

"She was married to a _fifty-two_ -year-old man. I don't think she's bothered by the fact that Charles is thirty-one."

Henry smoothed his hand over his face and groaned loud and long. "Why couldn't she be more like Margaret?"

Obviously it wasn't uncommon for young girls to marry someone twenty, or even thirty years their senior, but that didn't mean they all liked it. Mary and Rosemary had always detested marrying someone who could have passed as their father or grandfather, but Margaret Tudor was the opposite. She had accepted the fact that she could have married someone years older than her and she had. At only fourteen years of age, Margaret, after a wedding by proxy in London, was married to the thirty year old James IV of Scotland that was confirmed in person in 1503.

Margaret took after her late mother Elizabeth of York in being a prime and proper Queen, and she never once complained when she had been married to James. Rosemary had assumed that Margaret and James had been in love. Margaret was an extremely passionate woman and James was an extremely passionate man, although she was unable to satisfy James's carnal lust. But after James's death in 1513, Margaret had married Archibald Douglas, 6th Earl of Angus a year later. The marriage stirred up the jealousy of the nobles and the opposition of the faction supporting French influence in Scotland. Civil war broke out, and Margaret lost the regency to John Stewart, Duke of Albany.

Even though the females didn't talk as much as Rosemary and Mary had, from the few letters she had received and what others had told her, Rosemary gathered that Margaret wasn't pleased with her husband.

"You aren't her father, Harry," Rosemary said. If Henry VII had still been alive then Mary would have done whatever her father told her to do. Everyone — the royal children and the Brandon siblings included — had been weary to go against the late Henry VII, even when he had been clinging to his last breath. The late King was normally a reserved man who rarely showed much emotion in public unless he was made angry. "You've spent so many years as her brother and friend instead of her King."

As children, Mary and Henry shared a close friendship. Arthur had his own household and spent most of his days preparing to become the future King of England once his father had passed, and Margaret was the same in preparations to become the Queen of Scotland. They had four other siblings — Elizabeth, Edward, Edmund and Katherine, but they had all died young.

"I'll make her respect me then," Henry growled.

"Good luck with that," Rosemary said with a smirk.

He glared at her. "You could help me."

"And how would I be of any assistance?"

"Charles listens to you," Henry pointed out. "Make him see reason that he must leave Mary."

"He listens whenever he wants to. You know just as well as I do that he has selective hearing." Henry twitched in his seat, remembering that he specifically made the Duke promise that he would _not_ propose to his sister. "Besides, why haven't you asked for an annulment?"

Henry waved his hand at her lazily. "That would take forever."

"Then figure something else out."

"Why should I?"

"Because the two of us will go insane if we're left alone together," Rosemary said, almost biting Henry's head off as she snapped at him. "They can't be banished forever so think of something else they could do to earn your trust back."

Henry rolled his eyes. "And what should I do, oh, wise one?"

Ignoring his sarcasm and clipped tone, Rosemary said, "I think they should pay a fine."

Henry looked at her like she had grown a second head and said, "A fine?" He scoffed and chuckled, although it held no humor. "If I forgive them that easily then what example am I setting for the other people? Why, I should tell everyone who's been banished that in order to return all they have to do is pay a bloody fine. What a brilliant idea, Rosemary; truly it is."

"I don't think it should be that easy." Rosemary glared at him and if looks could kill, Henry would have been six feet under and without a male heir. "Have them pay Mary's whole dowry from Louis and whatever else you think is necessary."

Henry was quiet for a moment as he mulled over Rosemary's idea. He nodded his head to the side and said, "While that isn't enough, it's a start. If you can think of anything else to add to the list let me know and then I'll decide if it's good enough."

Rosemary nodded her head, but on the inside she was trying to figure out what else would make Henry happy. Paying Mary's dowry was a must, but whatever else was needed was absolutely lost to Rosemary. Surprisingly, Charles had never placed her in that situation before and she was scrambling to make ends meet to ensure that her brother could return to her as soon as possible. Court just wouldn't be the same without him.

As she tried to think of others thing, Rosemary came up empty handed, but she suddenly had a thought. She didn't like it, but it was probably the only chance she had.

"Harry, where is Wolsey?"

 **~Page Break~**

Westhorpe Hall had never been a quiet place. Not when children filled the manor with their screams and cries of joy while playing, or when their siblings were picking on them. Westhorpe Hall was the residence that Rosemary had grown up in until she was nine years old. She put every room to memory in her mind, making it her safe haven when life got too rough. It had been years since she had stepped foot in the manor, and she felt right at home once she had stepped over the threshold.

As the middle aged servant guided Rosemary down the hall, she almost stopped and admired the portrait of her father. The resemblance between him and Charles was strong, only Charles had taken their mother's blue eyes instead of their father's hazel. It had been like that for all the Brandon siblings; Anne, Charles, Rosemary and their deceased brother, too, had inherited their mother's eye color, and Elizabeth and Katherine had inherited their mother's brown eyes. Charles did get his impressive bread from their father as well, as it was painted on his face in the portrait. It was thick and full, just like the mustache that covered his top lip. In the portrait, William Brandon's dark hair was parted down the middle, but strands of it stuck out in every which way. Even though his mouth wasn't curled upwards, his eyes were crinkled, indicating that they were smiling. His face looked a little sunken in, making him look tired and older than twenty-nine. He was a handsome man, though, and it was obvious that he and his wife had passed on their good looks to their children.

"Right through here, My Lady." The servant came to a stop in front of the closed door. Rosemary could hear the murmurs of a conversation, and before she could dismiss the servant, she heard something crash against the door.

Rosemary and the servant jumped, and took a step backwards.

"I hate you!" Glass shattered and Rosemary could only hope that her brother was able to dodge his wife's explosive anger. "You said it would be alright! You said that he would believe you! That's what you said! That's what you swore to me!"

"Oh, for the love of God, wife!" Charles screamed back.

There was another murmur and Rosemary was sure the sound that followed was something breaking the glass window.

"I don't want to be your wife," Mary screamed. "I hate you!"

"No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do. If it weren't for you I would still be the Queen of France. And now, what am I?"

"You are drunk and you are foolish! Henry will forgive us. He is just standing on his pride," Charles said firmly, knowing that he was right. "We just wounded his vanity; believe me."

"Why should I?! I don't know if you're really brave or a fucking fool."

The doors to the parlor room swung open and a tear stained face Mary came to a stop when she saw her old friend, and then threw herself into Rosemary's shocked form.

"Oh, Rosemary, it's terrible! Banished," Mary screeched, making the Duchess of Buckingham cringe. "How could my own brother banish me? I've always listened to him, always! And this is how he repays me?! I should have stayed in France."

Rosemary hugged the eighteen year old tightly and ran her fingers through Mary's hair. "It'll be alright, Mary, I promise you that. Henry loves you too much to be rid of you forever."

Mary shook her head. "He doesn't love me. He doesn't even want me to be happy." She began to cry again and clung to Rosemary even tighter, whimpering to her friend quietly, "I just want to be happy."

Henry had been right about one thing — Mary wore her heart on her sleeves and it seemed like it was always getting crushed. Rosemary's heart went out to the Princess, though, understanding exactly how Mary felt.

Untangling herself from her sobbing friend, Rosemary pushed the hair out of Mary's face. "Sweetheart, why don't you go lay down and relax as I talk with Charles. And after I finish with him I'll come talk with you."

"Alright," Mary sniffled. She handed her empty cup to the servant. "Ethel, fetch me more wine."

Watching Mary's figure stumble to her bedroom and hold on to the walls for support made Rosemary turn to Ethel and say, "Maybe no more wine is better."

The servant nodded her head and went back to doing whatever it was before Rosemary arrived.

Rosemary took a seat in one of the chairs that hadn't been disturbed during the lover's spat and smiled coyly at her brother. "So, how's the marriage treating you?"

"Rosemary, shut up."

"You should have thought of the drawbacks before you persuaded her to marry you."

"She persuaded me," Charles said, correcting his sister.

Rosemary blinked. And then she blinked again. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Charles glared at his sister. "You heard me."

"B-but how?! That just doesn't make sense," Rosemary said. How did sweet, naïve Mary persuade her brother to abandon his pledge?

"I know," Charles groaned into his hands. He took a deep breath and sat in the chair diagonal to Rosemary. "I went to France with the intent to bring Mary back to England, and Harry made me promise that I would not propose to her and I didn't. I was doing my job until she just broke down crying. Once she stopped she said she didn't want to marry Francis, or the Duke of Lorraine or the Duke of Savoy. She had heard the rumors that had been circulating and she was scared that Henry would make her marry one of them. She was just so scared, Rosie, I didn't know what to do! One minute she's crying and the next she's looking up at me with her brown eyes confessing her love to me — to me! And you've known for a long time how I've felt about her and so she proposed that we should get married in France, and I couldn't say no. The woman I had loved since I was a boy wanted to marry me, telling me that I would make her happy. What was I supposed to do?"

"Say no," Rosemary suggested. Charles glared at her again and she said, "I know that you've loved her since you were a boy, and Mary's been in love with you since she was a little girl, but honestly, what did you think would happen? This is treason, Charles. You married a Royal Princess without Henry's consent, and not just any Princess, but his bloody sister."

Charles slouched in his chair and pulled at his hair. "How is court?"

Rosemary sighed. "Not too good. The King is outraged, and the Privy Council is urging that you should be imprisoned or executed."

"I hope Harry wasn't too hard on you."

"He wants me to make you see reason," Rosemary said.

"I'm not divorcing her," Charles said firmly. His eyes went hard, ready to defend his marriage if he had to.

"I didn't think you would." Rosemary slipped Charles a piece of parchment paper and explained what was written on it. "Thankfully, I managed to persuade Harry to get you to pay a fine in order to rid yourself of the banishment. I sought out Wolsey to see if there was anything else that should be added to the fine and he gave me a list."

Charles read it over carefully. "We either pay Henry £24,000 in yearly instalments of £1000, or continue to face banishment?"

"And the whole of Mary's dowry from Louis of £200,000, together with her plate and jewels."

Charles threw the paper away from him. "He's bloody ridiculous."

"I think he's being reasonable," Rosemary said. "You did marry his sister without his consent."

"Are you alright?" Charles asked suddenly. He leaned forward and placed his hand on his sister's forehead, checking her temper. "Are you ill? Do I need to call the healers?"

Rosemary swatted her brother's hand away. "Stop it, I'm fine. I just think that he has a point."

"You agree with Henry?" Charles's eyes widened and he his eyebrows rose up to his hairline.

"You make it seem like we've never agreed on anything before," Rosemary mumbled.

"That's because you haven't."

Rosemary rolled her eyes. "Well, maybe if you'd stop doing stupid things then I wouldn't have to agree with him."

Charles sighed and reached across the table. He took his sister's tiny hand into his larger one and kissed her knuckles gingerly. "I'm sorry for being an idiot."

"It's alright," Rosemary said softly. She smiled at her brother with nothing but love. "My life would be boring without you causing trouble, I must admit."

That got a smile out of Charles, even if it was a small one. Some tension left his body when he saw his sister smile. Just as long as Rosemary could still smile then Charles could relax for a while.

"Speaking of marriage," Charles said slowly. "How is yours fairing?"

And then her smile fell.

"It's a marriage."

Charles's grip tightened on Rosemary's hand. "He hasn't put his hands on you, has he?"

Rosemary almost rolled her eyes and scoffed, but she bit her tongue and shook her head. Of course Buckingham had put his hands on her; she had bruises on her upper arms from his rough treatment. She was positive that there was a bruise forming on her hips, too.

"He's my husband, Charles, of course he's put his hands on me." Rosemary simpered, raising her eyebrow in a suggestive manner. The sex wasn't all too good. Buckingham was all into getting himself off before he left to do whatever he did afterwards, which was probably plotting Henry's death.

Charles blanched in revulsion. "Have you no fliter, woman?"

Rosemary rolled her eyes this time. "He hasn't hurt me, Charles."

The ominous _yet_ hung over their heads, though. And Charles didn't like that at all, but it was better for him to keep his temper in check this time. "You always have a place here to stay. Your room is, and will always be, your room."

Rosemary almost flung herself into her brother's arms but she restrained herself. Married life was a struggle, Rosemary knew that from observing the other men and women of court, but being married to Buckingham was a gamble of her well being everyday. She wasn't even sure if she could last a year with him. But instead, she sucked up her self-pity and threw it out the window. Feeling sorry for herself wasn't going to change anything.

"Thank you, Charles. You've always been a good brother to me." It had been Charles and Rosemary for as long as the two could remember. No one, not even God himself, could have broken their bond. "Now, let's go work on you being a good husband."

"What are you talking about? I'm an excellent husband."

Rosemary laughed in his face and patted his hand in fake mockery. "That's what you and every man thinks."

Charles allowed Rosemary to escorted him out of the dining room. As he followed his sister through the halls, he grumbled about how women were crazy. Rosemary almost slapped him in the back of his head, but she figured that Mary, who was still drunk and depressed, would end up throwing something at his head either way.

And Rosemary had been right.

When Mary had opened her door and saw Charles's face, she slapped him with a force that neither Brandon sibling knew the young, docile Princess possessed. She slammed the door in his face, too.

Rosemary pressed her lips together in a horrible attempt to hide her smile. "Well, I do believe it's going to be a long day. Maybe we should eat before we try again."

"Tell one of the servants to bring the bottle of wine as well."

* * *

 **Information/Credits/Disclaimer:  
** **  
**– **The Tudors: TM Productions Limited/PA Tudors Inc. An Ireland-Canada Co-Production. All rights reserved.**

– **© 2017 Showtime Networks Inc. and Showtime Digital Inc. All rights reserved.**

– **I am in no connection with the productions and networks stated above. I do not get paid to upload this story.**

– **Rosemary Brandon and the plot of this story are of my own creation.**

– **This chapter was edited and looked over by my beta HPuni101.**

– **Charles Brandon and Princess Mary Tudor married in secrecy sometime in 1515 February. Some say that the couple married in March of that year. They did, however, openly marry at Greenwich Hall on 13 May.**

– **Mary Tudor did not marry the King of Portugal. She was sent to France in October 1514 to marry King Louis XII of France who died just a few months later in January 1515.**

– **Charles was not sent to escort Mary to Portugal (or even France), he was sent to bring her home after the death of Louis XII of France.**

– **Mary did not murder the King of France (or Portugal), he died of natural causes.**

– **Mary** _ **did**_ **persuade Charles to abandon this pledge.**

– **Charles was saved from Henry's anger only by Wolsey, and the pair eventually agreed to pay to Henry £24,000 in yearly instalments of £1000, and the whole of Mary's dowry from Louis of £200,000, together with her plate and jewels.**

* * *

 **If you liked this chapter, please favorite this story and review! It would be very helpful to get the next chapter going.**

 **Until next time! xoxo**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi, guys? Is anyone still there?**

 **I hadn't even realized that I haven't updated this story in a year until someone PM-ed me. I'm sorry that I've been gone that long, but I got a job, my boyfriend and I are saving up money to move in together, and family life has just been crazy. But I'm happy to say that I've got my funk back. Yay!**

 **Shameless plug, but if you guys are interested in any** _Twilight_ **fanfics or girl/girl, check out my two new stories and let me know what you think.**

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 _*More information, along with credits and disclaimers, can be found below._

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 **Chapter 6:**

 _15 November, 1515_

 _Thornbury Castle, Thornbury, South Gloucestershire, England_

Tomorrow would mark a year.

Rosemary still couldn't wrap her mind around it. By tomorrow, she would have been married to Buckingham for an entire year. She wasn't sure if she should have been celebrating the fact that she had made it through a whole year with the wretched man, or if she should have been crying to Wolsey to hurry up with the evidence to convict Buckingham of a crime. At that point, Rosemary didn't care what sort of treason charges Wolsey would present Buckingham with; just as long as she could finally rid herself of her husband.

It wasn't all bad, though. Buckingham's youngest child, Mary, was one of the sweetest persons ever. The young girl clung to Rosemary's side and secretly viewed her as the mother she couldn't remember. Mary also admired Rosemary's backbone. She was still a dutiful wife who remembered her place in the presence of her husband, but there was an air to Rosemary that drew the young Lady Buckingham in. And Rosemary found that she didn't mind having Mary around. The girl was too timid, afraid of her own shadow, but she had one of the kindest souls Rosemary had ever seen.

Then there was the four-year-old Margaret, one of the three of Buckingham's illegitimate children. She was a very fair child, and beautiful, too. Despite her unruly curls of strawberry blonde, Margaret bared no resemblance towards her father whatsoever, but she had inherited his strong willed personality. When the little girl put her mind to something she was determined to see it through, or die trying in the process. Many times the servants and maids had caught Margaret attempting to do something she shouldn't, something unladylike, all while she tried to keep up with her brothers George and Henry—Buckingham's other illegitimate children. Rosemary wasn't too sure if Margaret's strong will was such a good thing for a girl like her, because Rosemary had seen the likes of women such as Margaret before and it never ended well for them. They were the women who were too passionate about things that touched their hearts and moved within their souls. And while that wasn't such a bad thing, Rosemary knew that those women were also the ones who didn't know how to make do with being a simple housewife and mother. They always had to be fighting for independence, for whatever cause they felt most passionate about, and they would surely die because of it.

Despite forming a bond with some of her stepchildren, Rosemary barely spent time at Thornbury Castle. Most of her days were spent at Court where she was a lady-in-waiting to the Queen by day, and at night she was a spy relaying messages to Wolsey about her husband and his supporters. She kept in contact with her brother through a series of letters, and like she had expected, Buckingham had one of his wards read every letter between the siblings. That's why she and Charles decided to write in code. To the ward, the siblings talked of trivial things such as the weather, what they had for breakfast and dinner, the upcoming holidays, and so forth. The ward never knew that the weather was code of Buckingham's temper and treatment for Rosemary; that what they ate actually meant the number of supporters Buckingham was either gaining or losing, and how much riches he was gaining, too; and that the upcoming holidays were about what Buckingham had planned next.

Buckingham wasn't a fool, though, and he certainly didn't like people to make one out of him. He knew from the gettco that Rosemary was plotting something against him, but, unlike his wife, Buckingham had no evidence to support his claim.

That hadn't meant that he let her go unpunished. Buckingham had found his own way to remind Rosemary of what he was capable of doing through rough treatment and threats. He had been careful enough to not leave any visible marks, but some of the other ladies-in-waiting had taken noticed that Rosemary had some difficulty sitting or lifting her arms. They never said anything, though; because it wasn't their business, and, if she was going to be honest, Rosemary would've done the same if her situation had been reversed. Besides, she wasn't worried about others knowing; she was worried about Charles finding out. He truly would have Buckingham's head if he were to ever find out how she was being handled, and Rosemary couldn't have that. She held onto the hope that Buckingham would soon be behind bars, or better yet, dead.

"Would you like some more, My Lady?"

"No, Joanne, I am fine. Thank you," Rosemary said. She tried to smile as she nursed her busted lip with ice.

The housemaid hesitated for a few minutes, but with a heavy sigh she said, "My Lady, if I may be so blunt?" She waited for Rosemary to nod before she continued on. "The Lord Buckingham will not stop this cruel behavior, nor will he change his ways. I was here when the late Lady Eleanor suffered from his wrath as well and she would do nothing to provoke him. She was just simply there. But you, My Lady, provoke him so much so. I do not know what you have done, and I do not care to know. I'm just a lowly servant who doesn't want to see another spirited woman lose herself. So, please, heed my warning: Whatever it is that has his Lordship so angry you must stop it, or he will stop you—permanently."

That had been Buckingham's main threat. He warned his wife time and time again that he would destroy her in any way, shape or form if she wouldn't stop whatever it was she had planned. Of course, Rosemary always countered with the fact that Buckingham had no evidence to support his suspicions, and that he sounded utterly ridiculous. How could she, a simple minded woman whose only purpose in life was to make her husband pleased with her and birth his children, plot out such an elaborate plan that he suspected her to be apart of?

Yet Buckingham knew better. He wasn't fooled by Rosemary's docile, submissive act and saw right through her; just like she saw right through him. Both husband and wife were highly intelligent and cunning. Greatness was something they both strived for, and they were willing to cut others down to achieve their goals. It truly scared Rosemary at how similar she was to Buckingham. They could've been the same person except for a few minor differences.

"Do not worry, Joanne," Rosemary finally said. "My husband knows better than to harm me too extremely. He, like the rest of our Englishmen, wouldn't want another civil war on our hands."

The housemaid appeared to be distributed by Rosemary's words. Joanne was very old; old enough to be a great grandmother and she remembered the War of Roses well.

"Is there anything else I can get you, My Lady?"

"Could you fetch me paper and ink? It's best I warn my brother now than to have him be surprised when he sees me again."

Charles knew that there was little he could do to protect to his sister. She was no longer under his protection, and Buckingham could do whatever he so pleased to his new wife, but that didn't mean Charles still didn't go ballistic when he saw the bruises and marks on Rosemary. She had assured him that she could handle a slap here and there, even a physical threat, but she knew that it did little to calm Charles down. He had all but demanded that Buckingham's head be delivered to him on a silver platter when Rosemary came back to court after her wedding with a black and blue cheek. So Rosemary decided to take precaution of letting Charles know ahead of time of the mark on her face instead of surprising him like before.

Joanne did not say anything, but she did what was asked of her. She left Rosemary alone when she was dismissed; leaving the Duchess to not have to worry about the housemaid spying for her husband.

She dipped the feather into the ink and swiftly, yet elegantly wrote the date and her place of residency at the top of the paper.

 _To my dearest Sir and brother, Charles, by grace of God First Duke of Suffolk, I, Rosemary Duchess of Buckingham, your beloved sister, sends to you my greetings and deepest love._

 _With how much very sincere affection I love and especially hope that you and your Lady wife are in good health and person with God, so much that I give you invitation for an audience to your requests and open the door of my home welcomingly, particularly when you and your wife have joyous news to be told._

 _I must confess to you, dearest brother, that although my bodily eyes see you but seldom, I never cease to look upon you with the eyes of the spirit. These words are tokens of affection, but are quite unworthy of Your Grace. Please believe that so long as I live I shall always remember you in my prayers. I beg you by our trusted bond to be loyal to my insignificance, as I have faith in you, and to aid me with your prayers so that Almighty God may order my life according to His will._

 _And I, your beloved sister, beg you, dearest brother of mine, to remember that I am well and have received no further injury from my fall, and that the storm has settled as of now and we are blessed with even more bountiful food to ensure my swift recovery._

 _No more to you at this time, but Almighty Jesus have you in his blessed keeping. Written at Thornbury Castle on Thursdaeg at high noon. By your sister Rosemary Stafford._

 **.**

Coming from the front hall, Rosemary heard something drop and the sound of footsteps following. The smell of musk and grass and blood assaulted her nose as the chilled wind carried the scents her way. She figured that Buckingham would have something to say about the smell so she opened a window.

She was situated in one of the parlour rooms at the far end of the castle, which was nestled in a little alcove off the hall. She had been accompanied by her stepdaughters Mary and Katherine, sewing in the quietness after they had finished the snack the kitchen staff had prepared for them. It was in those moments that Rosemary was able to gather more information about her stepdaughters. The boys were brash and outspoken must like their father so Rosemary knew plenty about them, but Mary and Katherine were meek girls who only spoke when they were spoken to. It made a part of Rosemary feel for the girls because a girl should never fear her own father, but the two girls sadly had been cursed with a brute of a man as a father.

From the front hall, Rosemary heard the footsteps get closer.

"Henry," she called. "Is that you?"

"Yes, stepmother."

"Don't let your father catch you skipping your lessons."

"Yes, stepmother."

As the only legitimate heir, Henry was placed on a high pedestal. He was expected to excel at everything he did and was meant to go above and beyond in his everyday activities and lessons. But the fourteen year old wasn't as ambitious as his father. Henry had drive to him, and he had passion whenever he put his mind to things, but he knew his limits unlike his father. And while the young boy barely remembered his mother since he had spent more time studying than being with his family, Henry found that he enjoyed having a stepmother—at least, one like Rosemary. She wasn't overbearing and she'd rather have them all be happy than to be something that they weren't.

And he knew that his sisters enjoyed having her around, too. Rosemary had been the complete opposite of what their mother had been, and it was doing the girls some good to see that a woman could be everything a husband expected and more.

Rosemary took a sip of water and observed her stepdaughters, looking at the cloth and plaid patterns. It went from red, black, white, green, red, and then Rosemary lost track.

"It's so ugly." Katherine's voiced startled Rosemary back to focus. Rosemary realized that her second oldest stepdaughter was always serious looking with a long, bony face.

"You're practicing, Katherine," she said, reaching to help the struggling girl. "You'll get it in due time."

"It is ugly," a comical voice said. Henry came strolling into the room, a cup of ale in hand. He chuckled when his sister huffed at him in annoyance.

Rosemary let it slide, understanding the sibling need to poke fun at one another. "You're home early." She glanced across the hall to make sure that Buckingham wouldn't make a surprised entrance. "Are you feeling ok?"

Henry nodded his head. "It's just the cold."

Henry was fourteen and not the type of person who skipped his lessons. He was learning everything his tutors were willing to offer and his dedication was like no other.

"Professor Helmsway did give me lines to do." He leaned against Rosemary's chair and smiled at his younger sister. "You're improving well, Mary."

Mary was setted across from Rosemary and grinned at her brother. "Thank you," she said. Her hair was a muddy brown that hung in wild snarls on either side of her face.

Mary was a lot like her late mother. She didn't have much confidence in herself, but she was a kind soul and always tried to make others happy. There was no denying that Eleanor had been an amazing mother, but as a person, she was nothing but a doormat that everyone stepped on.

Katherine huffed. "It is as ugly as mine."

Rosemary shot Katherine a look that struck fear into any child's heart. But her stepdaughter just looked back at her with wide, dark eyes. "Well, it's true. She no better than I am."

"Something other than your sewing is also ugly," Henry said under his breath.

"What did you say?"

Katherine and Henry had a rocky relationship at best. They certainly didn't see eye to eye with anything, and Henry had always been protective of his younger siblings. Much like the eldest child, Elizabeth, who Buckingham had easily converted into what he believed the perfect woman should be, Henry had been one of their father's favorites. And all the children that had followed were thrown to the side, never given an ounce of affection. That had turned Katherine bitter. And since she couldn't stand up to her father, she did the next best thing by taking her hate and heartbreak out on her siblings.

Mary stared at her siblings and waited for Rosemary to jump in and take control of the conversation.

"You have an ugly personality," Henry said with no hint of remorse in his voice. He leaned forward and sneered at his sister. "It also makes your outer appearance ugly, too. Why, when you were a baby, you were the ugliest thing I've ever seen in my life. All yellow and wrinkly. And you had these teeth." He turned to Rosemary. "A full set of them. Just like Richard the Third I heard."

Rosemary looked up from her sewing. "Well, she's not ugly now." She pushed Henry's arm off the chair. "You better get started on those lines. Upstairs with you."

Henry did as he was told without a complaint, but he did shoot Katherine one last look before he disappeared from their sight. Katherine's feathers were obviously ruffled, but Rosemary paid her stepdaughter no mind. She had grown accustomed to Katherine's attitude.

But she still felt a headache coming on. Throughout the year, there was one thing that Rosemary learned through many tedious hours of stress, and that was the fact that being a parent was hard. No matter how old they were, kids needed attention and love all the time, but they also needed dinner, a reminder to bathe, and a strict hour of when to head to bed or there would be hell to pay in the morning. Reminders that their lessons didn't disappear just because they weren't feeling well and temper tantrums, picking a tutor, picking up toys, monitoring the friends they decided to keep—it was never ending.

Rosemary envied mothers and fathers, though, because being a parent seemed—from her no doubt warped perspective—a whole lot easier than being a stepparent. The list of difficult things about being a stepparent seemed to be endless.

It felt like she was an imposter. She never got the chance to do any of the early bonding experiences with the children because she came into their lives at a later date. And the bonding had to be intentional without seeming forced. Rosemary knew that she got lucky to have stepchildren who were interested to get to know her and relatively happy to have her around, but it still wasn't the same as being there from birth, or being the person who they have always been able to come to for hugs and stories and snacks. Rosemary's parenting did not come from a place of established love and nurturing. Make no mistake, while what she felt for her stepchildren wasn't exactly love just yet, she wouldn't hesitate to lay her life on the line for them, but her parenting came from the head first, then the heart. That was truly hard to maintain.

And she had to pick up the children's entire history—from favorite foods and activities to allergies, fears, and aversions—at some later date, and also at random. She always felt like there was some important piece of the puzzle she had not been given. She learned that the older the stepchildren were when you came into their life, the harder it was to learn about them, but it was still plenty difficult if you entered their life when they were barely out of cloths.

And since Eleanor had been a hands on type of mother, the children had expected the same from Rosemary. Their father was a lost cause when it came to their needs and nurturing them, so they turned to Rosemary instead. And that terrified her to the point of a nervous breakdown. She didn't have the slightest clue of how to be a parent. She didn't know how to calm down an upset toddler, or how to enforce positive reinforcement, or how to give out natural consequences for their actions or choices.

Yet not everyone could say how incredibly lucky they were to have stepchildren who were jaw-droppingly amazing. At fourteen years old, Henry was a human rights activist in the making; four year old Margaret had an eerily accurate recall of basically everything she's ever seen or heard, Mary was a brilliant artist, and was alarmingly cute; Elizabeth had a way to make her words come to life, Katherine was like a sponge and quickly excelled at anything she put her mind to, and George and Henry (the illegitimate one) were philosophers who always had an answer for everything. They were the best and most hard teachers Rosemary had ever had. And despite the fights, temper tantrums and bad days, they were all unfailingly sweet and thoughtful, as well as wise, kind, and hilarious.

Rosemary was no saint—if the children had not been as amazing and lovely as they were, she didn't know if she would have been brave enough to take on a lifetime of stepparenting. But they were great, and she could see herself falling in love with them, and even though it was hard to be a stepmother, she felt really lucky to have landed with such amazing pairs.

By the next hour, Katherine had called it quits and went to her room. Mary happily stayed with Rosemary until she allowed the young girl to go play with her half-sister.

Rosemary then pushed her chair back and went to her private chamber. She sat on the edge of her bed with Stephen Hawes's _The Passetyme of Pleasure_ propped up on her knees and read the long allegorical poem until her eyes felt heavy.

 **.**

When Rosemary woke a few hours later, someone was calling her name.

She got out of bed, putting the book back on the shelf and she smoothed out her dress. She had dozed off reading again, and it was becoming a habit. Reading seemed to be the only way she could physically relax while she was under Buckingham's roof. She took note that it was dark outside.

The house had a fire going in every room and all the windows had a candle burning in it, so that meant the man of house was home. Rosemary quickly figured out that he didn't like walking around in a dark house. So if there was a candle or fireplace that could be burning, he'd demand for it to be. When Rosemary stepped onto the landing, she had to shield her eyes from the glare of the fire.

"Rosemary," Buckingham barked from the empty parlor room. "Come in here, now."

He was at the table, and Rosemary could tell from his expression that he had been given news from one his of supporters that he hadn't liked. Rosemary didn't bother to ask what was wrong. Another thing she had learned quickly was that in the presence of her husband, she was only supposed to speak when spoken to.

He was flipping through a pile of paper and making notes on them. His fur coat had been thrown over the back of the chair he was settled in. He glanced up when she entered the room, but he hadn't put the feather down. He looked angry and tired, like he couldn't wait for the day to end.

"Did you know?" He asked.

"Know what?"

Buckingham watched her face, running his fingers through the feathered pen. "Today isn't a good day to play one of your games. So I'll ask you one more time, did you know?"

"Know what?" Rosemary snapped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Rosemary," he said. "Today the butcher's son was invested as a Cardinal."

"Surely you're joking." She stared at her husband like he was crazy.

Buckingham studied her face. "And why would I joke about something such as that?"

Rosemary looked down at the desk. "I don't know," she said after a second. "And I don't know why Henry would do this."

Buckingham arranged the papers on his desk in a neat pile, lining up the edges. Then he got up and towered over Rosemary. He cupped her cheeks in the palm of his hands and, on instinct, she flinched away. Having known that she would attempt to jerk her face away, he dug his fingers into the side of her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I don't believe you," he said with a low growl. He yanked her closer, ignoring her teary eyes. "You would gladly spread your legs for him, whore, so I wouldn't put it past you to be his little spy. That man tells you and your son of a bitch brother _everything_. So don't expect me to believe the lies you easily sprout with your harlot tongue."

Rosemary turned her head to the side and closed her eyes, feeling the hot tears sting her face. She felt a deep, aching pulse in the middle of her chest, like someone was hitting her there. "I am not his spy. He hasn't told me anything since the day I became your damned wife. And I am most certainly not a whore."

That made him breathe out a harsh gust, almost a disbelieving laugh. "You're nothing but a whore. At least now you are _my_ whore, Rosemary, and there is nothing you can do about it."

Rosemary was about to tell him that she would never be his and to do something anatomically impossible for a man when Henry came in. He paused in the doorway and turned his body slightly, ready to leave if his father commanded him to do so. But Rosemary closed her mouth and Buckingham released her with soft shove.

Henry removed the look of grim surprise from his face and only focused on his father. "I am sorry to interpret, father. I was just going to discuss my current studies with you as you wished me to."

Buckingham placed himself back behind his desk and looked up at his son. "That can wait until the morning. Leave us."

Henry inclined his head at his father before his eyes quickly sought out Rosemary's, looking away in shame when he saw the dark bruises already forming on her pale cheeks. Rosemary nodded her head to him and softly bidded him goodnight.

"You swear that you did not know of this?" Buckingham said once they were alone again.

"I swear on the children's lives."

Buckingham sat back in his chair, running a hand over his beard. "And why do you think he would not tell you this?"

Rosemary almost swallowed her first response and it burned her throat to hold back, but she didn't fancy to add another bruise to her quickly growing collection. Instead, she played on the one thing that she and her husband had in common.

"Henry knows that I do not favor Wolsey."

After a minute, he nodded. "Alright." He took a deep breath and said it again, but Rosemary couldn't ignore the twisting of her insides. "You're right—he wouldn't tell you anything as long as you are my wife."

Rosemary nodded, looking down at the floor and the dust that was collecting. She waited silently for Buckingham to dismiss her, and she was sure that he left her to stand there for those few minutes to see if she would behave or not. She was finally allowed to leave when he had been satisfied with her silent response.

Later that night, Rosemary lay face down on her bed, crying herself to sleep into the pillow.

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 **Responses:**

RHatch89: Thank you!

Emmettluver2010: I can't wait for Rosemary and Henry to get together either.

Guest: I'm still working on my Elizabeth/Franic I story! I swear that I haven't forgotten about it.

Guest: I want to save Rosemary so badly, but sometimes in life we have to suffer.

Guest: Thank you for pointing out the grammar mistakes and the mistake in the vows. Spellcheck can't pick up every error and I no longer have a beta to have a second pair of eyes to spot any mistakes. I will definitely come back to your review on the vows. I had checked multiple websites but they all said the same thing. Again, thank you for letting me know.

Serenity10116: Thank you for all of your reviews!

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 **Information/Credits/Disclaimer:**

—The Tudors: TM Productions Limited/PA Tudors Inc. An Ireland-Canada Co-Production. All rights reserved.

—© 2018 Showtime Networks Inc. and Showtime Digital Inc. All rights reserved.

—I am in no connection with the productions and networks stated above. I do not get paid to upload this story.

—Rosemary Brandon and the plot of this story are of my own creation.

—Thornbury Castle is a castle in Thornbury, South Gloucestershire, England. It was begun in 1511 as a home for Edward Stafford, 3rd Duke of Buckingham. It is not a true castle (designed to serve as a fortress), but rather an early example of a Tudor country house, with minimal defensive attributes. It is now a grade I listed building.

—Buckingham's marriage to Eleanor produced a son and three daughters: Lady Elizabeth Stafford (c. 1497 – 30 November 1558), the second wife Thomas Howard, 3rd Duke of Norfolk; Lady Katherine Stafford (c. 1499 – 14 May 1555), who married Ralph Neville, 4th Earl of Westmorland; Henry Stafford, 1st Baron Stafford (18 September 1501 – 30 April 1563), who married Ursula Pole, daughter of Sir Richard Pole by his second wife, Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, daughter of George, Duke of Clarence; and Lady Mary Stafford, the youngest daughter, who married, about June 1519, as his third wife, George Neville, 5th Baron Bergavenny.

—Buckingham is also said to have had three illegitimate children: George Stafford; Henry Stafford; and Margaret Stafford (c. 1511 – 25 May 1537), whom Buckingham married to his ward, Thomas Fitzgerald of Leixlip, half-brother to the Earl of Kildare.

—Margaret Geddynge is said to be associated as Buckingham's mistress, and the mother of his three illegitimate children.

—The civil war that Rosemary is referring to is The Wars of the Roses.

—Thursdaeg, an Anglo-Saxon name for Thursday.

—Stephen Hawes (died 1523) was a popular English poet during the Tudor period who is now little known.

— _The Passetyme of Pleasure_ is a long allegorical poem in seven-lined stanzas of man's life in this world. It is divided into sections after the manner of Le Morte d'Arthur and borrows the machinery of romance. Its main motive is the education of the knight, Graunde Amour, based, according to William John Courthope (History of English Poetry, vol. I. 382), on the Marriage of Mercury and Philology, by Martianus Capella, and the details of the description prove Hawes to have been acquainted with medieval systems of philosophy.

—On November 15, 1515, Thomas Wolsey is invested as a Cardinal.

—No beta overlooked this chapter.

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